THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 


P.  Wreden 


COELEONE 


A    TALE   OF  SICILY 


BY 


F.   MARION   CRAWFORD 

AUTHOB  OF  "  SAKACINESCA,"  "  PIETRO  GHISLERI,"  "  CASA  BEACCIO,' 

ETC.,    ETC. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOL.   I 


THE   MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON  :  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1897 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1896, 
BY  F.  MARION  CRAWFORD. 


Xorijjooli  Press 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  St  Smith 
Norwood  Mara.  U.S.A. 


PS 

/</£^ 

cir 


CORLEOKE 


CHAPTER   I 

"!F  you  never  mean  to  marry,  you  might  as 
well  turn  priest,  too,"  said  Ippolito  Saracinesca 
to  his  elder  brother,  Orsino,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Orsino,  without  a  smile.  "  It 
would  be  as  sensible  to  say  that  a  man  who  had 
never  seen  some  particular  thing,  about  which 
he  has  heard  much,  might  as  well  put  out  his 
eyes." 

The  young  priest  laughed  again,  took  up  the 
cigar  he  had  laid  upon  the  edge  of  the  piano, 
puffed  at  it  till  it  burned  freely,  and  then  struck 
two  or  three  chords  of  a  modulation.  A  sheet  of 
ruled  paper  on  which  several  staves  of  music  were 
roughly  jotted  down  in  pencil  stood  on  the  rack 
of  the  instrument. 

Orsino  stretched  out  his  long  legs,  leaned  back  in 
his  low  chair,  and  stared  at  the  old  gilded  rosettes 
in  the  square  divisions  of  the  carved  ceiling.  He 
was  a  discontented  man,  and  knew  it,  which  made 
his  discontent  a  matter  for  self-reproach,  especially 


VOL.   I. 15 


2  COKLEOSE 

as  it  was  quite  clear  to  him  that  the  cause  of  it 
lay  in  himself. 

He  had  made  two  great  mistakes  at  the  be- 
ginning of  life,  when  barely  of  age,  and  though 
neither  of  them  had  ultimately  produced  any  seri- 
ous material  consequences,  they  had  affected  his 
naturally  melancholic  temper  and  had  brought  out 
his  inherited  hardness  of  disposition.  At  the  time 
of  the  great  building  speculations  in  Rome,  several 
years  earlier,  he  had  foolishly  involved  himself 
with  his  father's  old  enemy,  Ugo  del  Ferice,  and 
had  found  himself  at  last  altogether  in  the  latter's 
power,  though  not  in  reality  his  debtor.  At  the 
same  time,  he  had  fallen  very  much  in  love  with 
a  young  widow,  who,  loving  him  very  sincerely  in 
her  turn,  but  believing,  for  many  reasons,  that  if 
she  married  him  she  would  be  doing  him  an  irrep- 
arable injury,  had  sacrificed  herself  by  marrying 
Del  Ferice  instead,  selling  herself  to  the  banker 
for  Orsino's  release,  without  the  latter's  knowledge. 
When  it  was  all  over,  Orsino  had  found  himself 
a  disappointed  man  at  an  age  when  most  young 
fellows  are  little  more  than  inexperienced  boys, 
and  the  serious  disposition  which  he  inherited 
from  his  mother  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
throw  off  the  impression  received,  and  claim  the 
youth,  so  to  speak,  which  was  still  his. 

Since  that  time,  he  had  been  attracted  by  women, 
but  never  charmed ;  and  those  that  attracted  him 


COBLEONE  3 

were  for  the  most  part  not  marriageable,  any  more 
than  the  few  things  which  sometimes  interested 
and  amused  him  were  in  any  sense  profitable.  He 
spent  a  good  deal  of  money  in  a  careless  way,  for 
his  father  was  generous ;  but  his  rather  bitter 
experience  when  he  had  attempted  to  occupy  him- 
self with  business  had  made  him  cool  and  clear- 
headed, so  that  he  never  did  anything  at  all 
ruinous.  The  hot  temper  which  he  had  inherited 
from  his  father  and  grandfather  now  rarely,  if 
ever,  showed  itself,  and  it  seemed  as  though  noth- 
ing could  break  through  the  quiet  indifference 
which  had  become  a  second  outward  nature  to 
him.  He  had  travelled  much,  of  late  years,  and 
when  he  made  an  effort  his  conversation  was  not 
uninteresting,  though  the  habit  of  looking  at  both 
sides  of  every  question  made  it  cold  and  unenthu- 
siastic.  Perhaps  it  was  a  hopeful  sign  that  he 
generally  had  a  definite  opinion  as  to  which  of 
two  views  he  preferred,  though  he  would  not  take 
any  trouble  to  convince  others  that  he  was  right. 
In  his  own  family,  he  liked  the  company  of 
Ippolito  best.  The  latter  was  about  two  years 
younger  than  he,  and  very  different  from  him  in 
almost  every  way.  Orsino  was  tall,  strongly  built, 
extremely  dark ;  Ippolito  was  of  medium  height, 
delicately  made,  and  almost  fair  by  comparison. 
Orsino  had  lean  brown  hands,  well  knit  at  the 
base,  and  broad  at  the  knuckles;  Ippolito's  were 


4  CORLEONE 

slender  and  white,  and  rather  nervous,  with  blue 
veins  at  the  joints,  the  tips  of  the  fingers  pointed, 
the  thumb  unusually  delicate  and  long,  the  nails 
naturally  polished.  The  elder  brother's  face,  with 
its  large  and  energetic  lines,  its  gravely  indiffer- 
ent expression  and  dusky  olive  hue,  contrasted 
at  every  point  with  the  features  of  the  young 
priest,  soft  in  outline,  modelled  in  wax  rather 
than  chiselled  in  bronze,  pale  and  a-  little  trans- 
parent, instead  of  swarthy,  —  feminine,  perhaps, 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  as  it  can  be  applied 
to  a  man.  Ippolito  had  the  clear,  soft  brown 
eyes  which  very  gifted  people  so  often  have, 
especially  musicians  and  painters  of  more  talent 
than  power.  But  about  the  fine,  even,  and  rather 
pale  lips  there  was  the  unmistakable  stamp  of 
the  ascetic  temperament,  together  with  an  equally 
sure  indication  of  a  witty  humour  which  could  be 
keen,  but  would  rather  be  gentle.  Ippolito  was 
said  to  resemble  his  mother's  mother,  and  was 
notably  different  in  appearance  and  manner  from 
the  rest  of  the  numerous  family  to  which  he  be- 
longed. 

He  was  a  priest  by  vocation  rather  than  by 
choice.  Had  he  chosen  deliberately  a  profession 
congenial  to  his  gifts,  he  would  certainly  have 
devoted  himself  altogether  to  music,  though  he 
would  probably  never  have  become  famous  as  a 
composer;  for  he  lacked  the  rough  creative  power 


COPLEONE  5 

which  hews  out  great  conceptions,  though  he  pos- 
sessed in  a  high  degree  the  taste  and  skill  which 
can  lightly  and  lovingly  and  wisely  impart  fine 
detail  to  the  broad  beauty  of  a  well-planned  whole. 
But  by  vocation  he  was  a  priest,  and  the  strength 
of  the  conviction  of  his  conscience  left  the  gifts  of 
his  artistic  intelligence  no  power  to  choose.  He 
was  a  churchman  with  all  his  soul,  and  a  musician 
with  all  his  heart. 

Between  the  two  brothers  there  was  that  sort 
of  close  friendship  which  sometimes  exists  between 
persons  who  are  too  wholly  different  to  understand 
each  other,  but  whose  non-understanding  is  a  con- 
stant stimulant  of  interest  on  both  sides.  In  the 
midst  of  the  large  and  peaceable  patriarchal  estab- 
lishment in  which  they  lived,  and  in  which  each 
member  made  for  himself  or  herself  an  existence 
which  had  in  it  a  certain  subdued  individuality, 
Orsino  and  Ippolito  were  particularly  associated, 
and  the  priest,  when  he  was  at  home,  was  generally 
to  be  found  in  his  elder  brother's  sitting-room,  and 
kept  a  good  many  of  his  possessions  there. 

It  was  a  big  room,  with  an  old  carved  and  gilded 
ceiling,  three  tall  windows  opening  to  the  floor, 
two  doors,  a  marble  fireplace,  a  thick  old  carpet, 
and  a  great  deal  of  furniture  of  many  old  and  new 
designs,  arranged  with  no  regard  to  anything  ex- 
cept usefulness,  since  Orsino  was  not  afflicted  with 
artistic  tastes,  nor  with  any  ujidrfe  appreciation  of 

^—^r-~  ^T 


6  COELEONE 

useless  objects.  Ippolito's  short  grand  piano  occu- 
pied a  prominent  position  near  the  middle  window, 
and  not  far  from  it  was  Orsino's  deep  chair,  beside 
which  stood  a  low  table  covered  with  books  and 
reviews.  For,  like  most  discontented  and  disap- 
pointed people  who  have  no  real  object  in  life, 
Orsino  Saracinesca  read  a  good  deal,  and  hankered 
after  interest  in  fiction  because  he  found  none  in 
reality.  Ippolito,  on  the  contrary,  read  little,  and 
thought  much. 

After  Orsino  had  answered  his  remark  about 
marriage,  the  priest  busied  himself  for  some  time 
with  his  music,  while  his  brother  stared  at  the 
ceiling  in  silence,  listening  to  the  modulations  and 
the  fragments  of  tentative  melody  and  experimental 
harmony,  without  in  the  least  understanding  what 
the  younger  man  was  trying  to  express.  He  was 
fond  of  any  musical  sound,  in  an  undefined  way, 
as  most  Italians  are,  and  he  knew  by  experience 
that  if  he  let  Ippolito  alone,  something  pleasant  to 
hear  would  before  long  be  evolved.  But  Ippolito 
stopped  suddenly  and  turned  half  round  on  the 
piano  stool,  with  a  quick  movement  habitual  to 
him.  He  leaned  forward  towards  Orsino,  tapping 
the  ends  of  his  fingers  lightly  against  one  another, 
as  his  wrists  rested  on  his  knees. 

"  It  is  absurd  to  suppose  that  in  all  Rome,  or  in 
all  Europe,  for  that  matter,  there  is  nobody  whom 
you  would  be  willing  to  marry." 


COELEONE  7 

"  Quite  absurd,  I  suppose,"  answered  Orsino,  not 
looking  at  his  brother. 

"Then  you  have  not  really  looked  about  you 
for  a  wife.  That  is  clear." 

"Perfectly  clear.  I  do  not  argue  the  point. 
Why  should  I  ?  There  is  plenty  of  time,  and 
besides,  there  is  no  reason  in  the  world  why  I 
should  ever  marry  at  all,  any  more  than  you. 
There  are  our  two  younger  brothers.  Let  them 
take  wives  and  continue  the  name." 

"  Most  people  think  that  marriage  may  be 
regarded  as  a  means  of  happiness,"  observed 
Ippolito. 

"  Most  people  are  imbeciles,"  answered  Orsino, 
gloomily. 

Ippolito  laughed,  watching  his  brother's  face, 
but  he  said  nothing  in  reply. 

"  As  a  general  rule,"  Orsino  continued  presently, 
"  talking  is  a  question  of  height  and  not  of  intelli- 
gence. The  shorter  men  and  women  are,  the  more 
they  talk  ;  the  taller  they  are,  the  more  silent  they 
are,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten.  Of  course  there  are 
exceptions,  but  you  can  generally  tell  at  a  glance 
whether  any  particular  person  is  a  great  talker. 
Brains  are  certainly  not  measurable  by  inches. 
Therefore  conversation  has  nothing  to  do  with 
brains.  Therefore  most  people  are  fools." 

"  Do  you  call  that  an  argument  ? "  asked  the 
priest,  still  smiling. 


8  COELEONE 

"  No.     It  is  an  observation." 

"  And  what  do  you  deduce  from  it  ?  " 

"From  it,  and  from  a  great  many  other  things, 
I  deduce  and  conclude  that  what  we  call  society 
is  a  degrading  farce.  It  encourages  talking,  when 
no  one  has  anything  to  say.  It  encourages  mar- 
riage, without  love.  It  sets  up  fashion  against 
taste,  taste  against  sense,  and  sense  against  heart. 
It  is  a  machinery  for  promoting  emotion  among 
the  unfeeling.  It  is  a  — " 

Orsino  stopped,  hesitating. 

"  Is  it  anything  else  ?  "  asked  Ippolito,  mildly. 

"  It  is  a  hell  on  earth  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  most  of  the  prophets  and 
saints  have  said,  since  David,"  remarked  the  priest, 
moving  again  in  order  to  find  his  half-smoked 
cigar,  and  then  carefully  relighting  it.  "  Since 
that  is  your  opinion,  why  not  take  orders  ?  You 
might  become  a  prophet  or  a  saint,  you  know. 
The  first  step  towards  sanctity  is  to  despise  the 
pomps  and  vanities  of  this  wicked  world.  You 
seem  to  have  taken  the  first  step  at  a  jump,  with 
both  feet.  And  it  is  the  first  step  that  costs  the 
most,  they  say.  Courage !  You  may  go  far." 

"  I  am  thinking  of  going  further  before  long," 
said  Orsino,  gravely,  as  though  his  brother  had 
spoken  in  earnest.  "  At  all  events,  I  mean  to  get 
away  from  all  this,"  he  added,  as  though  correcting 
himself. 


CORLEONE  9 

"  Do  you  mean  to  travel  again  ?  "  enquired  Ip- 
polito. 

"I  mean  to  find  something  to  do.  Provided  it 
is  respectable,  I  do  not  care  what  it  is.  If  I  had 
talent,  like  you,  I  would  be  a  musician,  but  I  would 
not  be  an  amateur,  or  I  would  be  an  artist,  or  a 
literary  man.  But  I  have  no  talent  for  anything, 
except  building  tenement  houses,  and  I  shall  not 
try  that  again.  I  would  even  be  an  actor,  if  I  had 
the  gift.  Perhaps  I  should  make  a  good  farmer, 
but  our  father  will  not  trust  me  now,  for  he  is 
afraid  that  I  should  make  ruinous  experiments  if 
he  gave  me  the  management  of  an  estate.  This 
is  certainly  not  the  time  for  experiments.  Half 
the  people  we  know  are  ruined  and  the  country  is 
almost  bankrupt.  I  do  not  wish  to  try  experi- 
ments. I  would  work,  and  they  tell  me  to  marry. 
You  cannot  understand.  You  are  only  an  amateur 
yourself,  after  all,  Ippolito." 

"An  amateur  musician  —  yes." 

"  No.  You  are  an  amateur  priest.  You  support 
your  sensitive  soul  on  a  sort  of  religious  ambrosia, 
with  a  good  deal  of  musical  nectar.  Your  ideal  is 
to  be  Cardinal-Protector  of  the  Arts.  You  are 
clever  and  astonishingly  good,  by  nature,  and  you 
deserve  no  credit  for  either.  That  is  probably  why 
I  like  you.  I  hate  people  who  deserve  credit,  be- 
cause I  deserve  none  myself.  But  you  do  not  take 
your  clerical  profession  seriously,  and  you  are  an 


10  CORLEONE 

amateur,  a  dilettante  of  the  altar.  If  you  do  not 
have  distractions  about  the  vestments  you  wear 
when  you  are  saying  mass,  it  is  because  you  have 
an  intimate,  unconscious  artistic  conviction  that 
they  are  beautiful  and  becoming  to  you.  But  if 
the  choir  responded  a  flat  'Amen'  to  your  'per 
omnia  saecula  saeculorum,'  it  would  set  your  teeth 
on  edge  and  upset  your  devout  intention  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Preface.  Do  you  think  that  a 
professional  musician  would  be  disturbed  in  con- 
ducting a  great  orchestra,  by  the  fact  that  his  coat 
collar  did  not  fit  ?  " 

Ippolito  smiled  good  humouredly,  but  did  not 
answer. 

"Very  well,"  continued  Orsino  at  once,  "you 
are  only  an  amateur  priest.  It  does  not  matter, 
since  you  are  happy.  You  get  through  life  very 
well.  You  do  not  even  pretend  that  you  do  any 
real  work.  Your  vocation,  as  you  call  it,  was  a 
liking  for  the  state  of  priesthood,  not  for  the  work 
of  a  priest.  Now  I  do  not  care  about  any  state  in 
particular,  but  I  want  work  of  some  sort,  at  any 
cost.  I  was  never  happy  but  once,  during  that 
time  when  I  worked  with  Contini  and  got  into 
trouble.  I  preferred  it  to  this  existence,  even  when 
we  got  into  Del  Ferice's  clutches.  Anything  rather 
than  this." 

"I  thought  you  had  grown  indifferent,"  said 
Ippolito. 


CORLEONE  11 

"  Indifferent  ?  Yes,  I  am  indifferent  —  as  a 
machine  is  indifferent  when  the  fire  is  out  and 
there  is  no  steam.  But  if  the  thing  could  think,  it 
would  want  work,  as  I  do.  It  would  not  be  satis- 
fied to  rust  to  pieces.  You  ought  to  know  a  little 
theology.  Are  we  put  into  the  world  with  a  purpose, 
or  not  ?  Is  there  an  intention  in  our  existence,  or 
is  there  not  ?  Am  I  to  live  through  another  forty 
or  fifty  years  of  total  inactivity,  because  I  happen 
to  be  born  rich,  and  in  a  position  —  well,  a  position 
which  is  really  about  as  enviable  as  that  of  a  fly 
in  a  pot  of  honey  ?  We  are  stuck  in  our  traditions, 
just  as  the  fly  is  in  the  honey  —  " 

"  I  like  them,"  said  Ippolito,  quietly. 

"I  know  you  do.  So  does  our  father.  They 
suit  you  both.  Our  father  is  really  a  very  intelli- 
gent man,  but  too  much  happiness  and  too  much 
money  have  paralyzed  him.  His  existence  seems 
to  have  been  a  condition  of  perpetual  adoration  of 
our  mother." 

"  He  has  made  her  happy.  That  is  worth  some- 
thing." 

"She  has  made  him  happy.  They  have  made 
each  other  happy.  They  have  devoured  a  lifetime 
of  happiness  together  in  secret,  as  though  it  were 
their  lawful  prey.  As  they  never  wanted  anything 
else,  they  never  found  out  that  the  honey  of  tradi- 
tions is  sticky,  and  that  they  could  not  move  if 
they  would." 


12  COBLEONE 

"  They  are  fond  of  us  — 

"  Of  course.  We  have  none  of  us  done  anything 
very  bad.  We  are  a  part  of  their  happiness.  We 
are  also  a  part  of  their  dulness ;  for  they  are  dull, 
and  their  happiness  makes  us  dull,  too." 

"  What  an  idea ! " 

"It  is  true.  What  have  we  accomplished,  any 
of  us  four  brothers  ?  What  shall  we  ever  accom- 
plish? We  are  ornaments  on  the  architecture  of 
our  father's  and  mother's  happiness.  It  is  rather 
a  negative  mission  in  life,  you  must  admit.  I  am 
glad  that  they  are  happy,  but  I  should  like  to  be 
something  more  than  a  gargoyle  on  their  temple." 

"  Then  marry,  and  have  a  temple  of  your  own !  " 
laughed  Ippolito.  "And  gargoyles  of  your  own, 
too." 

"But  I  do  not  want  that  sort  of  happiness. 
Marriage  is  not  a  profession.  It  is  not  a  career." 

"No.  At  least,  you  might  turn  out  a  dilettante 
husband,  as  you  say  that  I  am  an  amateur  priest." 
Ippolito  laughed  again. 

Orsino  laughed  dryly,  but  did  not  answer,  not 
being  in  a  humour  for  jesting.  He  leaned  back 
in  his  chair  again,  and  looked  at  the  carved  ceiling 
and  thought  of  what  it  meant,  for  it  was  one  of 
those  ceilings  which  are  only  to  be  found  in  old 
Roman  palaces,  and  belong  intimately  to  the  exist- 
ence which  those  old  dwellings  suggest.  Orsino 
thought  of  the  grim  dark  walls  outside,  of  the  for- 


COELEONE  13 

bidding  gateway,  of  the  heavily  barred  windows 
on  the  lower  story,  of  the  dark  street  at  the  back 
of  the  palace,  and  the  medieevalism  of  it  all  was 
as  repugnant  to  him  as  the  atmosphere  of  a  prison. 

He  had  never  understood  his  father  nor  his 
grandfather,  who  both  seemed  born  for  such  an 
existence,  and  who  certainly  thrived  in  it ;  for  the 
old  Prince  was  over  ninety  years  of  age,  and  his 
son,  Sant'  Ilario,  though  now  between  fifty  and 
sixty,  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  still  a  young 
man.  Orsino  was  perhaps  as  strong  as  either  of 
them.  But  he  did  not  believe  that  he  could  last 
as  long.  In  the  midst  of  an  enforced  idleness  he 
felt  the  movement  of  the  age  about  him,  and  he 
said  to  himself  that  he  was  in  the  race  of  which 
they  were  only  spectators,  and  that  he  was  born  in 
times  when  it  was  impossible  to  stand  still.  It  is 
true  that,  like  many  young  men  of  to-day,  he  took 
movement  for  progress  and  change  for  improve- 
ment, and  he  had  no  very  profound  understanding 
of  the  condition  of  his  own  or  of  other  countries. 
But  the  movement  and  the  change  are  facts  from 
which  no  one  can  escape  who  has  had  a  modern 
education. 

Giovanni  Saracinesca,  Orsino's  father,  known  as 
Prince  of  Saiit'  Ilario,  since  the  old  Prince  Sara- 
cinesca was  still  living,  had  not  had  a  modern 
education,  and  his  mother  had  died  while  he  was 
a  mere  child.  Brought  up  by  men,  among  men,  he 


14  COELEONE 

had  reached  manhood  early,  in  close  daily  associa- 
tion with  his  father  and  with  a  strong  natural 
admiration  for  him,  though  with  an  equally  strong 
sense  of  personal  independence. 

Orsino's  youth  had  been  different.  He  was  not 
an  only  son,  as  Sant'  Ilario  had  been,  but  the  eldest 
of  four  brothers,  and  he  had  been  brought  up  by 
his  mother  as  well  as  by  his  father  and  grand- 
father. There  had  been  less  room  for  his  charac- 
ter to  develop  freely,  since  the  great  old  house  had 
been  gradually  filled  by  a  large  family.  At  the 
same  time  there  had  also  been  less  room  for  old- 
fashioned  prejudices  and  traditions  than  formerly, 
and  a  good  deal  less  respect  for  them,  as  there  had 
been,  too,  a  much  more  lively  consciousness  of  the 
outer  world's  movements.  The  taking  of  Rome  in 
1870  was  the  death-blow  of  medisevalism ;  and  the 
passing  away  of  King  Victor  Emmanuel  and  of 
Pope  Pius  the  Ninth  was  the  end  of  Italian  roman- 
ticism, if  one  may  use  the  expression  to  designate 
all  that  concatenation  of  big  and  little  events  which 
make  up  the  thrilling  story  of  the  struggle  for 
Italian  unity.  After  the  struggle  for  unity,  began 
the  struggle  for  life,  —  more  desperate,  more  dan- 
gerous, but  immeasurably  less  romantic.  There  is 
all  the  difference  which  lies  between  banking  and 
fighting. 

And  Orsino  was  aware  of  qualities  and  feelings 
and  opinions  iu  his  father  and  mother  which  he 


COBLEONE  15 

did  not  possess,  but  which  excited  in  him  a  sort 
of  envy  of  what  he  regarded  as  their  simplicity. 
Each  seemed  to  have  wanted  but  one  thing  in 
life  since  he  could  remember  them,  and  that  was 
the  other's  love,  in  possessing  which  each  was  sat- 
isfied and  happy.  Times  might  change  as  they 
would,  popes  might  die,  kings  might  be  crowned, 
parties  might  wrangle  in  political  strife,  and  the 
whole  country  might  live  through  its  perilous  joys 
of  sudden  prosperity  and  turn  sour  again  in  the 
ferment  that  follows  failure,  —  it  was  all  the  same 
to  Giovanni  and  Corona.  As  Orsino  had  told  his 
brother,  they  had  devoured  a  lifetime  of  happiness 
together  in  secret.  He  would  have  added  that 
they  had  left  none  for  others,  and  in  a  sense  it 
might  have  been  true.  But  he  preferred  not  to 
say  it,  even  to  Ippolito;  for  it  would  have  sounded 
bitter,  whereas  Orsino  believed  himself  to  be  only 
indifferent. 

Proud  men  and  women  hide  their  griefs  and 
sufferings,  when  they  have  any.  But  there  are 
some  who  are  so  very  proud  that  they  will  hide 
their  happiness  also,  as  though  it  might  lose  some 
of  its  strength  if  anyone  else  could  see  it,  or  as 
if  it  could  be  spoiled  by  the  light  like  a  photo- 
graph not  yet  fixed.  People  sometimes  call  that 
instinct  the  selfishness  of  love,  but  it  is  more 
like  a  sort  of  respect  for  love  itself,  which  is 
certainly  not  vulgar,  as  all  selfishness  is. 


16  CORLEONE 

It  was  not  probable  that  either  Giovanni  or 
Corona  should  change  in  this  respect,  nor,  indeed, 
in  any  other,  for  they  had  never  been  changeable 
or  capricious  people,  and  time  had  made  solid 
their  lives.  To  each  other  they  were  as  they  had 
always  been,  but  to  others  Giovanni  was  a  man 
advanced  in  middle  life,  and  the  beautiful  Corona 
Saracinesca  was  a  rose  of  yesterday. 

She  could  never  be  anything  but  beautiful,  even 
if  she  should  live  to  extreme  old  age;  but  those 
who  had  known  her  in  her  youth  had  begun  to 
shake  their  heads  sadly,  lamenting  the  glory  de- 
parted, and  seeing  only  in  recollection  a  vision  of 
it,  while  they  could  not  see  the  value  of  what 
remained  nor  appreciate  something  which  had 
come  with  years.  Strangers  who  came  to  Home 
and  saw  the  Princess  of  Sant'  Ilario  for  the  first 
time,  gazed  in  silent  surprise  at  the  woman  who 
for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  been  the 
most  beautiful  in  Europe,  and  they  wondered 
whether,  even  now,  anyone  could  be  compared 
with  her. 

The  degeneration  of  age  had  not  taken  hold 
upon  her.  The  perfect  features  were  as  calm  and 
regular  as  fate,  the  dark  skin  had  still  its  clear, 
warm,  olive  tint,  which  very  rarely  changed  at  all 
perceptibly;  her  splendid  eyes  were  truthful  and 
direct  still,  beneath  the  strong  black  eyebrows. 
There  were  silver  threads  in  the  magnificent  hair, 


COELEONE  17 

but  they  were  like  the  lights  on  a  raven's  wing. 
She  was  straight  and  strong  and  graceful  still,  she 
who  had  been  compared  to  velvet  and  steel  — 
slighter  perhaps  than  in  her  full  perfection,  for 
she  had  in  her  some  of  that  good  Saracen  blood 
of  the  south,  which  seems  to  nourish  only  the 
stronger  and  the  finer  tissues,  consuming  in  time 
all  that  is  useless ;  wearing  away  the  velvet,  but 
leaving  the  steel  intact  almost  to  the  very  last. 

There  could  be  but  one  such  woman  in  one  race, 
and  it  seemed  in  some  way  natural  that  she  should 
have  been  sisterless,  and  should  have  borne  only 
sons.  But  as  though  nature  would  not  be  alto- 
gether defeated  and  stayed  out  of  balance,  the 
delicate  feminine  element  had  come  to  the  surface 
in  one  of  the  Saracinesca  men.  It  was  too  fine 
to  be  womanish,  too  high  to  be  effeminate,  as  it 
showed  itself  in  Ippolito,  the  priest-musician.  But 
it  was  unmistakably  something  which  was  neither 
in  the  old  Prince,  nor  in  Giovanni,  nor  in  any  of 
the  other  three  brothers,  and  it  made  between  him 
and  his  mother  a  bond  especially  their  own,  which 
the  rest  acknowledged  without  understanding,  and 
respected  without  feeling  that  Ippolito  was  pre- 
ferred before  them.  For  it  was  not  a  preference, 
but  a  stronger  mutual  attraction,  in  which  there 
was  no  implied  unfairness  to  the  rest. 

It  is  one  of  the  hardest  things  in  the  world  to 
explain,  and  yet  almost  everyone  understands  it, 

VOL.   I. C 


18  CORLEONE 

for  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  language,  and  every- 
thing to  do  with  feeling.  We  human  beings  need 
language  most  to  explain  what  is  most  remote 
from  our  humanity,  and  those  who  talk  the  most 
of  feeling  are  often  those  that  feel  the  least.  For 
conveying  a  direct  impression,  what  is  the  sharp- 
ened conciseness  of  Euclid,  or  the  polished  elo- 
quence of  Demosthenes,  what  is  the  sledge-hammer 
word  blow  of  JEschylus,  or  the  lightning  thrust  of 
Dante's  two-edged  tongue,  compared  with  a  kiss, 
or  a  girl's  blush,  or  the  touch  of  a  mother's  hand 
—  or  the  silent  certainty  of  twofold  thought  in 
one,  which  needs  neither  blush,  nor  touch,  nor 
kiss  to  say  that  love  is  all,  and  all  is  love? 

And  that  bond  which  is  sometimes  between 
mother  and  son  is  of  this  kind.  It  is  not  strange, 
either,  that  the  father  who  looks  on  should  mis- 
understand it,  since  it  is  the  most  especially 
human  feeling  which  is  often  the  least  compre- 
hensible to  those  who  do  not  feel  it,  for  the 
very  reason  that  language  cannot  convey  the  im- 
pression of  it  to  others.  Nothing  is  less  ridic- 
ulous than  love,  except  death.  Yet  a  man  in  love 
is  very  frequentty  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  his 
friends  and  of  the  world,  the  more  so  in  propor- 
tion as  he  shows  the  more  plainly  what  he  feels. 
Yet  most  of  those  who  laugh  at  him  have  probably 
been  in  love  themselves.  A  cynic  would  say  that 
the  humour  of  it  lies  in  the  grim  certainty  which 


CORLEONE  19 

others  feel  that  it  cannot  last.  Fear  is  terri- 
bly real  to  him  who  feels  it,  but  a  man  who  is 
frightened  without  cause  is  always  laughable  and 
generally  contemptible.  It  is  true  that  whereas 
we  are  all  human  and  feel  humanly,  humanity  is 
very  hard  to  understand  —  because  understanding 
is  not  feeling,  any  more  than  the  knowledge  of 
evil  is  temptation,  or  than  the  knowledge  of  good 
is  virtue.  The  best  description  of  a  sunset  cannot 
convey  much  to  a  man  born  blind,  though  it  may 
awaken  longings  in  him,  and  sharpen  the  edge  of 
his  old  suffering  upon  the  roughness  of  a  new 
regret.  And  yet  a  description  means  very  much 
more  to  most  people  than  an  explanation. 

Sant'  Ilario  had  long  ago  accepted  the  fact  that 
his  wife  was  in  some  mysterious  way  drawn  to 
her  second  son,  more  than  to  the  others.  It  would 
be  saying  too  much,  perhaps,  to  assert  that  Corona 
was  glad  when  Ippolito  took  orders  and  the  vow 
of  celibacy.  She  was  not  an  imaginative  woman, 
nor  nervous,  nor  in  any  way  not  normal.  Nor 
were  the  Saracinesca  by  any  means  an  excessively 
devout  family,  nor  connected  with  the  history  of 
the  church,  as  many  Roman  families  are.  On  the 
contrary,  they  had  in  former  times  generally  op- 
posed the  popes  when  they  had  not  been  strong 
enough  to  make  one  of  their  own,  and  the  absence 
of  any  womanly  element  in  the  great  house,  be- 
tween the  untimely  death  of  the  old  Prince's  wife, 


20  CORLEONE 

and  Giovanni  Saracinesca's  marriage  with  the 
Duchessa  d'Astrardente  nearly  thirty  years  later, 
had  certainly  not  favoured  a  tendency  to  devo- 
tional practices.  When  young  Ippolito  made  up 
his  mind  to  be  a  priest,  the  aged  head  of  the 
family  growled  out  a  few  not  very  edifying  re- 
marks in  his  long  white  beard.  Even  ten  years 
earlier,  he  might  have  gone  into  a  rage  about  it, 
which  might  have  endangered  his  life,  for  he 
had  a  terrible  temper;  but  he  was  near  the  end, 
now,  and  it  would  have  taken  more  than  that  to 
rouse  him.  As  for  Giovanni,  he  was  not  especially 
pleased  either,  for  he  had  never  been  fond  of 
priests,  and  he  assuredly  did  not  care  to  have  any 
in  the  family.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this  prejudice, 
there  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  certain  fitness  in  the 
event,  against  which  it  would  be  useless  to  argue, 
and  after  a  little  discussion  with  his  wife,  he 
accepted  it  as  more  or  less  inevitable. 

But  Corona  was  satisfied,  if  not  glad,  and  what 
she  felt  was  very  like  gladne'ss,  for,  without  reason- 
ing at  all,  she  knew  that  she  should  be  jealous  of 
any  woman  who  came  between  her  and  Ippolito. 
She  had  never  been  able  to  think  of  a  possible  Avife 
for  him  —  as  she  often  thought  of  wives  for  her 
other  sons  —  without  a  sharp  thrust  of  pain  which 
could  not  be  anything  but  jealousy.  It  was  not 
exactly  like  what  she  should  have  felt,  or  fancied 
that  she  should  have  felt,  if  Giovanni  had  been 


COBLEONE  21 

momentarily  attracted  by  some  other  woman.  But 
it  was  not  at  all  like  anything  else  in  the  world. 

She  did  not  know  how  far  Ippolito  was  aware 
of  this,  but  she  knew  beyond  doubt  that  he  was 
instinctively  drawn  to  her,  as  she  was  to  him.  She 
had  that  intuitive  certainty,  which  women  know 
so  well,  that  in  a  moment  of  danger  he  would  think 
first  of  her,  precisely  as  her  husband  would.  Such 
instincts  are,  perhaps,  but  shadowy  inklings  of  the 
grey  primeval  past,  when  women  and  children  knew 
to  whom  they  must  look  for  protection  against  man 
and  beast;  but  they  are  known  to  us  all  in  con- 
nexion with  those  we  love  best,  though  they  may 
never  cross  our  thoughts  when  we  are  alone. 

There  was  between  her  and  Ippolito  a  sort  of 
constant  mutual  echoing  of  thought  and  feeling; 
that  sort  of  sympathy  which,  between  people  of 
sensitive  and  unhealthy  organization,  leads  to  those 
things,  not  easily  explained,  to  which  the  name  of 
telepathy  has  lately  been  attached  as  a  tentative 
definition.  But  these  two  were  not  unhealthy,  nor 
morbidly  sensitive,  nor  otherwise  different  from 
normal  human  beings.  Corona  had  never  been  ill 
in  her  life,  and  if  Ippolito  had  been  thought  del- 
icate in  his  boyhood,  it  was  by  contrast  with  the 
rest  of  a  family  remarkable  for  most  uncommon 
health  and  strength. 

All  this  has  seemed  necessary  in  order  to  explain 
the  events  which  at  this  time  took  place  in  the  Sara- 


22  CORLEONE 

cinesca  household.  Nothing  unusual  had  occurred 
in  the  family  for  many  years,  excepting  Orsino's 
rather  foolish  and  most  unlucky  attempt  to  occupy 
himself  in  business  at  the  time  of  the  great  build- 
ing speculation,  and  his  first  love  affair,  to  which 
reference  was  made  in  the  beginning  of  this  some- 
what explanatory  chapter. 


CHAPTER   II 

WHEX  the  notorious  Prince  of  Corleone  died  with- 
out much  ceremony  in  a  small  second-class  hotel 
in  Nice,  and  was  buried  with  no  ceremony  at  all 
worth  mentioning,  at  the  expense  of  the  hotel 
keeper,  his  titles  and  what  was  left  of  his  lands 
and  other  belongings  went  to  his  brother's  chil- 
dren, since  his  brother  was  dead  also.  The  Cor- 
leone people  were  never  long-lived,  nor  had  their 
alliances  as  a  rule  conduced  to  long  life  in  others, 
who  had  been  their  wives  and  husbands.  Super- 
stitious persons  said  that  there  was  upon  the 
whole  family  the  curse  of  a  priest  whom  they 
had  caused  to  be  shot  as  a  spy  in  order  to  save 
themselves  during  the  wars  of  Napoleon  in  Italy. 
It  was  even  said  that  they  saw,  or  thought  they 
saw,  this  priest  when  they  were  about  to  die. 
But  as  priests  are  plentiful  in  the  south  of  Italy, 
it  might  very  well  be  that  their  vision  was  not  a 
vision  at  all,  but  simply  some  quite  harmless  living 
ecclesiastic  who  chanced  to  be  passing  at  the  time. 
It  is  true  that  they  were  said  to  notice  always  a 
small  red  hole  in  his  forehead  and  another  in  his 
left  cheek,  but  this  also  might  have  been  only  an 
23 


24  CORLEONE 

effect  of  imagination.  Nevertheless  they  were  un- 
fortunate, as  a  race,  and  several  of  them  had  come 
to  violent  or  otherwise  untimely  ends  within  the 
century. 

The  name,  Corleone,  was  only  a  title,  and  the 
town  from  which  it  was  taken  had  long  ago  passed 
into  other  hands.  The  family  name  was  Pagliuca 
d'Oriani.  As  often  happens  in  Italy,  they  went  by 
whichever  one  of  the  three  names  happened  to  be 
most  familiar  to  the  speaker  who  mentioned  them. 

At  the  time  of  the  Prince's  death  there  were 
living  his  brother's  widow  and  four  children,  con- 
sisting of  three  sons  and  one  daughter ;  and  there 
was  another  branch  of  the  family,  calling  them- 
selves Pagliuca  di  Bauso,  with  whom  this  history 
is  not  at  present  concerned. 

The  widowed  lady  was  known  in  Sicily  as 
Donna  Maria  Carolina  Pagliuca.  Her  eldest  son 
was  Tebaldo,  to  whom  came  from  his  uncle  the 
title,  Prince  of  Corleone;  and  his  two  brothers 
were  named  Francesco  and  Ferdinando.  Their 
sister,  a  girl  seventeen  years  of  age,  was  Vittoria, 
and  was  the  youngest. 

In  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  being  of  the 
south,  the  three  sons  as  well  as  their  father  and 
mother  would  have  each  borne  a  distinctive  title. 
Corleone,  however,  had  begun  life  by  quarrelling 
with  his  younger  brother;  and  when  the  latter 
had  died,  and  the  property  had  been  divided  ac- 


CORLEONE  25 

cording  to  the  code  introduced  after  the  annexation 
of  Naples  and  Sicily,  he  had  absolutely  refused  to 
allow  his  brother  any  title  whatsoever.  He  could 
not  prevent  the  division  of  the  lands,  of  which, 
however,  he  had  by  far  the  larger  share;  but  he 
could  keep  the  titles,  with  which  the  law  of  suc- 
cession does  not  concern  itself,  and  he  did  so  out 
of  spite.  Moreover,  he  injured  and  defrauded  his 
brother  by  every  means  in  his  power,  which  was 
at  that  time  considerable ;  and  the  result  was  that 
the  said  brother  and  his  family  became  very  poor 
indeed,  and  retired  to  live  in  a  somewhat  barbar- 
ous region  of  Sicily,  very  much  in  the  manner  of 
farmers  and  very  little  in  the  style  of  gentlefolks. 
He  died  of  the  cholera  when  his  eldest  son,  Te- 
baldo,  was  barely  of  age,  and  Vittoria  was  a  little 
girl  at  a  convent  in  Palermo. 

The  three  young  men  lived  almost  in  the  sur- 
roundings of  Sicilian  peasants,  but  with  the  pride 
and  more,  than  the  ordinary  vanity  of  a  race  of 
nobles.  There  might  not  have  been  much  differ- 
ence had  their  uncle  been  generous  to  them,  in- 
stead of  at  once  transferring  and  continuing  to 
them  his  hatred  of  their  father.  But  as  they  were 
placed,  and  with  their  characters,  the  result  was 
inevitable.  They  grew  up  to  be  at  once  idle  and 
vindictive,  grasping  and  improvident,  half  cunning 
and  half  fierce,  physically  brave  and  morally  mean. 
The  many  faults  and  the  few  virtues  were  not 


26  COR  LEONE 

evenly  distributed  among  them,  it  is  true,  for  each, 
had  some  greater  or  less  share  of  them  all.  Te- 
baldo  was  the  most  cunning,  Francesco  the  most 
licentious,  Ferdinando  was  the  boldest  and  the 
most  rash  of  them  all,  —  perhaps  the  best,  or,  at 
all  events,  the  least  bad. 

The  house  which  remained  to  them,  with  a  little 
land  around  it,  was  known  as  Camaldoli  to  the 
peasants  and  the  people  of  the  neighbourhood, 
though  its  original  name  had  been  Torre  del  Druso 
—  the  Tower  of  the  Druse,  or  of  the  fiend,  as  one 
chooses  to  interpret  it.  It  was  a  good-sized,  ram- 
bling, half-fortified  old  monastery,  looking  down 
from  a  gentle  elevation  in  the  high  valley  on  one 
side,  and  having  a  deep  gorge  at  the  back,  through 
which  a  torrent  tumbled  along  over  dark  stones 
during  three-quarters  of  the  year.  There  was  a 
sort  of  rampart  above  this  chasm,  and  at  one  end 
rose  a  square  tower  with  ruined  crenellations,  built 
of  almost  black  tufo.  It  was  evidently  this  tower 
which  had  given  the  place  its  more  ancient  name, 
before  the  monks  had  built  their  white  plastered' 
building  against  it  and  the  rampart,  with  the  little 
church  in  the  inner  court.  The  village  of  Santa 
Vittoria  was  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  dis- 
tant, hidden  by  the  spur  of  the  hill,  and  sepa- 
rated from  Camaldoli  by  a  barren  stretch  of  burnt 
lava  and  scoriae,  which  had  descended  long  ago 
from  some  lower  crater  of  the  volcano. 


CORLEONE  27 

Far  above  all,  Etna's  enormous  cone  rose  against 
the  dark  blue  eastern  sky  like  a  monstrous,  streaked 
sugar  loaf.  On  each  side  of  the  great  burnt  strip 
between  Santa  Vittoria  and  Camaldoli,  the  woods 
and  fields  stretched  north  and  south  towards  Mes- , 
sina  and  Catania,  and  westwards  beyond  the  val- 
ley rose  a  great  range  of  mountains  covered  high 
with  forests  of  chestnut  trees.  No  houses  were 
visible  from  Camaldoli,  nor  any  shed  nor  hut 
which  could  have  served  for  a  human  habitation, 
for  it  was  a  wild  and  lonely  country. 

The  three  brothers  lived  with  their  mother  at 
Camaldoli,  and  were  served  in  a  rough  fashion  by 
three  men  and  four  women,  almost  all  of  whom 
were  expected  to  do  almost  anything,  from  stable 
work  to  cooking  and  waiting  at  table.  There  was 
a  sort  of  slovenly  abundance  of  coarse  food  and 
drink,  but  there  was  little  else,  and  many  a  well- 
to-do  peasant  lived  better  than  the  sister-in-law 
and  the  nephews  of  Prince  Corleone.  Donna  Maria 
Carolina  scarcely  ever  left  the  house  in  winter  or 
summer.  She  had  been  married  from  a  convent, 
a  mere  child,  had  enjoyed  a  brief  taste  of  luxury 
and  something  of  happiness  at  the  beginning  of 
life,  and  had  spent  the  years  of  subsequent  pov- 
erty between  spasmodic  attempts  to  make  gentle- 
men of  her  wild  sons,  bitter  outbursts  of  regret  for 
her  marriage,  and  an  apathetic  indifference  such  as 
only  comes  upon  women  of  southern  races  when 


28  CORLEONE 

placed  in  such  hopeless  situations  as  hers.  She 
was  a  thin,  dark  woman,  with  traces  of  beauty, 
dressed  generally  in  shabby  black,  but  strangely 
fond  of  cheap  and  tasteless  ornaments,  which  con- 
trasted horribly  with  her  worn-out  mourning.  As 
her  sons  grew  up  they  acquired  the  habit  of  con- 
tradicting everything  she  said.  Sometimes  she 
argued  her  point,  whatever  it  might  be,  and  gen- 
erally in  total  ignorance  of  the  subject.  Her  argu- 
ments frequently  ended  in  a  passionate  appeal  to 
the  justice  of  Heaven,  and  the  right  feeling  of  the 
saints,  though  the  matter  under  discussion  might 
not  be  more  important  than  the  planting  of  a 
cabbage,  or  the  dressing  of  a  dish  of  greens.  Or 
else,  as  sometimes  happened,  she  sullenly  bent 
her  brows,  while  her  once  handsome  mouth  curled 
scornfully,  and  from  her  scarcely  parted  lips  one 
word  came  in  an  injured  and  dramatic  tone. 

"  Villani !  "  she  would  exclaim. 

The  word  may  be  translated  'boors,'  and  the 
three  boys  did  not  like  it,  for  it  is  an  outrageous 
insult  from  a  man  to  a  man.  But  it  is  worth  not- 
ing that  such  rudeness  to  their  mother  did  not  go 
beyond  flat  contradiction  in  argument,  and  when 
she  called  her  sons  boors,  they  bore  it  in  silence, 
and  generally  went  away  without  a  retort.  There 
are  no  Italians  without  some  traces  of  manners 
and  of  that  submission  to  parents  which  belonged 
to  the  old  patriarchal  system  of  the  Kornans.  It 


COBLEONE  29 

must  be  remembered,  too,  so  far  as  this  and  the 
rest  of  their  behaviour  may  be  concerned,  that  al- 
though their  father  died  when  they  were  young, 
he  had  lived  long  enough  to  give  them  something, 
though  not  much,  in  the  way  of  education,  chiefly 
by  the  help  of  the  parish  priest  of  Santa  Vittoria, 
and  to  teach  them  the  rudimentary  outward  man- 
ners of  young  gentlemen.  And  these  they  were 
quite  able  to  assume  when  they  pleased.  He  had 
succeeded  in  having  them  taught  at  least  enough 
to  pass  the  very  easy  examination  which  entitles 
young  men  to  serve  but  a  year  and  a  few  weeks  in 
the  army,  instead  of  the  regular  term  ;  and  he  had 
taken  first  Tebaldo,  then  Tebaldo  and  Francesco, 
and  then  all  three  in  successive  years  to  Messina 
and  Palermo  for  a  fortnight  at  a  time,  so  that  they 
were  not  wholly  ignorant  of  the  world  beyond  Ca- 
maldoli,  Santa  Vittoria,  and  the  one  or  two  larger 
towns  which  lay  within  a  day's  ride  of  their  re- 
mote abode. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten,  either,  in  order  to  un- 
derstand how  the  brothers  were  able  afterwards  to 
make  a  tolerably  decent  appearance  in  Rome,  that 
Italians  have  great  powers  of  social  adaptation ; 
and,  secondly,  that  the  line  between  the  nobility 
and  the  people  is  very  clearly  drawn  in  most  parts 
of  the  country,  especially  in  the  matter  of  manners 
and  speech,  so  that  what  little  the  young  men 
learned  from  their  father  and  mother  belonged 


30  COBLEONE 

distinctively  to  their  own  class  and  to  no  other. 
Even  had  they  been  outwardly  less  polished  than 
they  really  knew  how  to  appear,  their  name  alone 
would  have  admitted  them  to  society,  though  so- 
ciety might  have  treated  them  coolly  after  a  nearer 
acquaintance. 

Vittoria,  their  sister,  remained  at  the  convent  in 
Palermo  after  their  father's  death.  He,  poor  man, 
seeing  that  his  house  did  not  promise  to  be  a  very 
fit  place  for  a  young  girl,  and  especially  not  for  one 
delicately  organized  as  his  daughter  seemed  to  be, 
had  placed  her  with  the  nuns  while  still  a  young 
child;  and  under  the  circumstances  this  was  by 
far  the  wisest  thing  he  could  do.  The  nuns  were 
ladies,  and  the  convent  was  relatively  rich.  Possi- 
bly these  facts  had  too  much  weight  with  Pagliuca, 
or  perhaps  he  honestly  believed  that  he  should 
be  able  to  pay  regularly  for  Vittoria's  education 
and  living.  Indeed,  so  long  as  he  lived  he  man- 
aged to  send  small  sums  of  money  from  time  to 
time,  and  even  after  his  death  Donna  Maria  Caro- 
lina twice  remitted  a  little  money  to  the  nuns. 
But  after  that  nothing  more  was  sent  for  a  long 
time.  Fortunately  for  herself,  Vittoria  was  ex- 
tremely unlike  her  turbulent  brothers  and  her  dis- 
appointed mother,  and  by  the  time  she  was  ten 
years  old  she  was  the  idol  of  the  religious  house- 
hold in  which  she  had  been  placed.  Even  had  she 
been  very  different,  of  low  birth,  and  of  bad  tern- 


CORLEOXE  31 

per,  the  nuns  would  have  kept  her,  and  would  have 
treated  her  as  kindly  as  they  could,  and  would  have 
done  their  best  by  her,  though  they  would  very 
justly  have  required  her  to  do  something  towards 
earning  her  living  under  their  roof  when  she  grew 
older.  But  apart  from  the  child's  rare  charm  and 
lovable  disposition,  being  of  an  old  and  noble  name, 
they  would  have  considered  her  unfit  for  menial 
work,  though  cast  adrift  and  helpless,  and  they 
would  have  thought  her  quite  as  worthy  of  their 
sympathy  as  though  she  had  belonged  to  the  family 
of  one  among  themselves.  All  this,  however,  was 
quite  forgotten  in  their  almost  exaggerated  affec- 
tion for  the  child.  They  showed  their  love  for  her 
as  only  such  women  could ;  for  though  there  were  a 
dozen  other  daughters  of  nobles  under  their  care,  of 
ranging  ages,  the  nuns  let  no  one  know  that  Yittoria 
was  brought  up  by  their  charity  after  her  father's 
death.  They  gave  her  all  she  needed  of  the  best,  and 
they  even  gave  her  little  presents  which  she  might 
think  had  been  sent  from  home.  They  told  her  that 
'  her  mother  desired  her  to  have '  a  Book  of  Hours, 
or  a  writing-case,  or  a  silk  handkerchief,  or  any  such 
trifles.  Her  mother,  poor  lady,  doubtless  did  de- 
sire it,  though  she  never  said  so.  It  was  a  pious 
and  a  gentle  fraud,  and  it  prevented  the  other  girls 
from  looking  down  upon  her  as  a  charity  scholar, 
as  one  or  two  of  them  might  have  done.  In  dress 
there  was  no  difference,  of  course,  for  they  all 


32  CORLEONE 

dressed  alike,  and  Vittoria  supposed  that  her  par- 
ents paid  for  her  things. 

She  was  a  very  lovely  girl  as  she  grew  up,  and 
exquisite  in  all  ways,  and  gentle  as  she  was  exqui- 
site. She  was  not  dark  as  her  brothers  were,  nor 
as  her  mother.  It  is  commonly  said  that  all  the 
region  about  Palermo  is  Saracen,  but  that  the 
ancient  Greek  blood  survives  from  Messina  to 
Catania;  and  the  girl  certainly  seemed  to  be  of  a 
type  that  differed  from  that  of  her  family,  which 
had  originally  come  from  the  other  side  of  the 
island.  Vittoria  had  soft  brown  hair  and  clear 
brown  eyes  of  precisely  the  same  color  as  the  deli- 
cate, arched  eyebrows  above  them,  a  matching 
which  always  helps  the  harmony  of  any  face. 
There  was  a  luminous  clearness,  too,  in  the  skin, 
Avhich  both  held  and  gave  back  the  light  like  the 
sheen  of  fine  satin  in  shadow.  There  was  about 
all  her  face  the  dream-like  softness  of  well-defined 
outline  which  one  occasionally  sees  in  the  best 
cut  gems  of  the  Greeks,  when  the  precious  stone 
itself  has  a  golden  tinge.  The  features  were  not 
faultless  by  any  standard  of  beauty  which  we  call 
perfect,  but  one  would  not  have  changed  the  faults 
that  were  there  to  suit  rule  and  canon.  Such  as 
they  were,  they  will  appear  more  clearly  hereafter. 
It  is  enough  to  say  now  that  Vittoria  d'Oriani  had 
grace  and  charm  and  gentleness,  and,  withal,  a 
share  of  beauty  by  no  means  small.  And  she  was 


CORLEONE  33 

well  educated  and  well  cared  for,  as  has  been 
seen,  and  was  brought  up  very  differently  from  her 
brothers. 

The  existence  of  the  Pagliuca  at  Camaldoli  was 
not  only  tolerably  wild  and  rough,  as  has  been 
seen ;  it  was,  in  a  measure,  equivocal ;  and  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  all  the  doings  of  the  three 
brothers,  as  they  grew  up,  could  have  borne  the 
scrutiny  of  the  law.  Sicily  is  not  like  other  coun- 
tries in  this  respect,  and,  at  the  risk  of  wearying 
the  reader,  it  is  better  that  something  should  be 
said  at  the  outset  concerning  outlawry  and  brig- 
andage, in  order  that  what  follows  may  be  more 
clearly  understood. 

Brigandage  in  Sicily  has  a  sort  of  intermittent 
permanence  which  foreigners  cannot  easily  explain. 
The  mere  question  which  is  so  often  asked  — 
whether  it  cannot  be  stamped  out  of  existence  — 
shows  a  total  ignorance  of  its  nature.  You  may 
knock  off  a  lizard's  tail  in  winter  with  a  switch, 
as  most  people  know,  but  you  cannot  prevent  the 
tail  from  growing  again  in  the  spring  and  summer 
unless  you  kill  the  lizard  outright. 

Brigandage  is  not  a  profession,  as  most  people 
suppose.  A  man  does  not  choose  it  as  a  career. 
It  is  the  occasional  but  inevitable  result  of  the 
national  character  under  certain  conditions  which 
are  sure  to  renew  themselves  from  time  to  time. 
No  one  can  change  national  character.  The  suc- 


VOL.   I. D 


34  COELEONE 

cess  of  brigandage,  whenever  it  manifests  itself, 
depends  primarily  upon  the  almost  inaccessible 
nature  of  some  parts  of  the  island,  and,  secondly, 
upon  the  helplessness  of  the  peasants  to  defend 
themselves  in  remote  places.  It  is  manifestly  im- 
possible to  arm  a  whole  population,  especially  with 
weapons  fit  to  cope  with  the  first-rate  repeating 
rifles  and  army  revolvers  which  brigands  almost 
invariably  carry.  It  is  equally  impossible  to  picket 
troops  all  over  the  country,  at  distances  not  exceed- 
ing half  a  mile  from  station  to  station,  in  every 
direction,  like  cabbages  in  a  field.  No  army  would 
suffice.  Therefore  when  a  band  is  known  to  have 
formed,  a  large  force  is  sent  temporarily  to  the 
neighbourhood  to  hunt  it  down ;  and  this  is  all 
that  any  government  could  do.  The  'band,'  as 
it  is  always  called,  may  be  very  small.  One  man 
has  terrorized  a  large  district  before  now,  and  the 
famous  Leone,  when  at  last  surrounded,  slew  nearly 
a  score  of  men  before  he  himself  was  killed,  though 
he  was  quite  alone. 

Almost  every  baud  begins  with  a  single  individ- 
ual, and  he,  as  a  rule,  has  turned  outlaw  to  escape 
the  consequences  of  a  murder  done  in  hot  blood, 
and  is,  in  all  probability,  a  man  of  respectable  birth 
and  some  property.  It  is  part  of  the  national  char- 
acter to  proceed  instantly  to  bloodshed  in  case  of 
a  quarrel,  and  quarrels  are,  unfortunately,  common 
enough.  The  peasants  break  one  another's  heads 


COBLEONE  35 

and  bones  with  their  hoes  and  spades,  and  occa- 
sionally stab  each  other  with  inefficient  knives,  but 
rarely  kill,  because  the  carabineers  are  constantly 
making  search  for  weapons,  even  in  the  labourers' 
pockets,  and  confiscate  them  without  question  when 
found.  But  the  man  of  some  property  rarely  goes 
abroad  without  a  shot-gun,  or  a  revolver,  or  both, 
and  generally  knows  how  to  use  them.  He  may 
go  through  life  without  a  serious  quarrel,  but 
should  he  find  himself  involved  in  one,  he  usually 
kills  his  man  at  once,  or  is  killed.  If  there  are 
witnesses  present  to  prove  beyond  doubt  that  he 
has  killed  in  self-defence,  he  may  give  himself  up 
at  the  nearest  station  of  carabineers,  and  he  is  sure 
of  acquittal.  Otherwise,  if  he  can  get  away,  his 
only  course  is  to  escape  to  the  woods  without 
delay.  This  seenis  to  be  the  simple  explanation 
of  the  fact  that  such  a  large  proportion  of  brig- 
ands are  by  no  means  of  the  lowest  class,  but 
have  often  been  farmers  and  men  of  property,  who 
can  not  only  afford-  good  weapons,  but  are  able  to 
get  licenses  to  carry  them.  Brigands  are  certainly 
not,  as  a  rule,  from  the  so-called  criminal  classes, 
as  foreigners  suppose,  though  when  a  band  becomes 
very  large,  a  few  common  criminals  may  be  found 
in  the  whole  number ;  but  the  brigands  despise  and 
distrust  them. 

These  things  also  account  for  the  still  more  nota- 
ble fact  that  the  important  bands  have  always  had 


36  CORLEONE 


friends  among  the  well-to-do  lauded  proprietors. 
Indeed,  they  have  not  only  friends,  but  often  near 
relations,  who  will  make  great  sacrifices  and  run 
considerable  risks  to  save  them  from  the  law. 
And  when  any  considerable  number  of  brigands 
are  caught,  they  have  generally  been  betrayed  into 
an  ambush  by  these  friends  or  relations.  Some- 
times they  are  massacred  by  them  for  the  sake  of 
a  large  reward.  But  to  the  honour  of  the  Sicilian 
character,  it  must  be  said  that  such  cases  are  rare, 
though  a  very  notable  one  occurred  in  the  year 
1894,  when  a  rich  man  and  his  two  sons  deliber- 
ately drugged  six  brigands  at  a  sort  of  feast  of 
friendship,  and  shot  them  all  in  their  sleep,  a  mas- 
sacre which,  however,  has  by  no  means  ended  the 
existence  of  that  particular  band. 

As  for  the  practices  of  the  bandits,  they  have 
three  main  objects  in  view:  namely,  personal  safety, 
provisions  wherewith  to  support  life,  and  then, 
if  possible,  money  in  large  sums,  which,  when 
obtained,  may  afford  them  the  means  of  leaving 
the  country  secretly  and  for  ever.  With  regard  to 
the  first  of  these  ends,  they  are  mostly  young  men, 
or  men  still  in  the  prime  of  strength,  good  walkers, 
good  riders,  good  shots,  and  not  rendered  conspic- 
uous marks  at  a  distance  by  a  uniform.  As  for 
their  provisions,  when  their  friends  do  not  supply 
them,  they  take  what  they  need  wherever  they  find 
it,  chiefly  by  intimidating  the  peasants.  In  the 


COELEONE  37 

third  matter  they  have  large  views.  An  ordinary 
person  is  usually  quite  safe  from  them,  especially 
if  armed,  for  they  will  not  risk  their  lives  for  any- 
thing so  mean  as  higlnvay  robbery.  It  is  their 
object  to  get  possession  of  the  persons  of  the  rich- 
est nobles  and  gentlemen,  from  whom  they  can  ex- 
tort a  really  large  ransom.  And  if  they  once  catch 
such  a  personage  they  generally  get  the  money,  for 
the  practice  of  sending  an  ear  or  a  piece  of  nose  as 
a  reminder  to  relations  is  not  extinct.  Few  Sicilian 
gentlemen  who  have  lands  in  the  interior  dare 
visit  their  estates  without  a  military  escort  when  a 
'  band '  is  known  to  be  in  existence,  as  happens  to 
be  the  case  at  the  present  time  of  writing. 

It  chanced  that  such  a  band  was  gathered  to- 
gether, though  not  a  large  one,  within  a  few  years 
of  Pagliuca's  death,  and  was  leading  a  precarious 
and  nomadic  life  for  a  time  not  far  from  Santa 
Vittoria.  It  was  said  that  the  Pagliuca  men  were 
on  good  terms  with  these  brigands,  though  of 
course  their  mother  knew  nothing  about  it.  In 
the  neighbourhood*  no  one  thought  much  the  worse 
of  the  brothers  for  this.  When  brigands  were 
about,  every  man  had  to  do  the  best  he  coiild  for 
himself.  The  Corleoiie,  as  many  of  the  peasants 
called  them,  were  well  armed,  it  is  true,  but  they 
were  few  and  could  not  have  resisted  any  depreda- 
tions of  the  brigands  by  force.  On  the  other  hand, 
they  had  the  reputation  of  being  brave  and  very 


88  COKLEONM 

reckless  young  men,  and  even  against  odds  might 
send  a  bullet  through  anyone  who  tried  to  carry 
off  a  couple  of  their  sheep,  or  one  of  their  mules. 
They  knew  the  country  well,  too,  and  might  be 
valuable  allies  to  the  carabineers,  which  meant 
that  they  could  be  useful  friends  to  the  outlaws, 
if  they  chose.  Everyone  knew  that  they  were 
poor  and  that  it  would  not  be  worth  while  to  take 
one  of  them  in  the  hope  of  a  ransom,  and  no  one 
was  surprised  when  it  was  hinted  that  they  sold 
provisions  to  the  brigands  for  cash  when  they 
could  get  it,  and  for  credit  when  the  brigands  had 
no  money,  a  credit  which  was  perfectly  good  until 
the  outlaws  should  be  taken. 

There  was  very  little  direct  proof  of  this  alli- 
ance, and  the  Pagliuca  denied  it  in  terms  which 
did  not  invite  further  questioning.  To  make  a 
brilliant  show  of  their  perfect  innocence,  they  led 
a  dozen  carabineers  about  for  two  days  through 
a  labyrinth  of  forest  paths  and  hill  passes,  and 
brought  them  three  times  in  forty-eight  hours  to 
places  where  a  fire  was  still  smouldering,  and 
remains  of  half-cooked  meat  were  scattered  about, 
as  though  the  brigands  had  fled  suddenly  at  an 
alarm.  It  was  very  well  done,  and  they  received 
the  officer's  thanks  for  their  efforts,  with  sincere 
expressions  of  regret  that  they  should  have  been 
unsuccessful.  In  one  of  the  (.-amps  they  even  found 
the  skin  of  a  sheep  which  they  identified  as  one 


CORLEONE  39 

of  their  own,  with  many  loud-spoken  curses,  by 
the  brand  on  the  back.  It  was  all  very  well  done, 
and  the  result  of  it  was  that  the  carabineers  often 
applied  for  news  of  the  brigands  at  Camaldoli,  a 
proceeding  which  of  course  kept  the  d'Oriani  well 
informed  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  the  carabineers 
themselves. 

It  was  certainly  as  well  in  the  end  that  Vittoria 
should  have  stayed  at  the  convent  in  Palermo 
during  those  years,  until  the  death  of  the  old 
Corleone  suddenly  changed  the  existence  of  her 
mother  and  brothers. 

He  died,  as  has  been  said,  without  much  cere- 
mony in  a  small  hotel  at  Nice.  He  died  childless 
and  intestate,  as  well  as  ruined,  so  far  as  he  knew 
at  the  time  of  his  death.  The  news  reached  Camal- 
doli in  the  shape  of  a  demand  for  money  in  pay- 
ment of  one  of  his  just  debts,  from  a  money-lender 
in  Palermo  who  was  aware  of  the  existence  of  the 
three  Pagliuca  brothers,  and  knew  that  they  were 
the  Prince's  heirs-at-law. 

It  took  a  whole*  year  to  unravel  the  ruin  of  the 
dead  man's  estate.  What  he  had  not  sold  was 
mortgaged,  and  the  mortgages  had  changed  hands 
repeatedly  during  the  tremendous  financial  crisis 
which  began  in  1888.  There  were  debts  of  all 
kinds,  just  and  unjust,  and  creditors  by  the  hun- 
dred. The  steward  of  the  principal  estate  ab- 
sconded with  such  cash  as  he  happened  to  have 


40  CORLEONE 

in  hand,  as  soon  as  he  heard  of  Corleone's  death. 
An  obscure  individual  shot  himself  because  the 
steward  owed  him  money,  and  this  also  was  talked 
of  in  the  newspapers,  and  a  good  deal  of  printed 
abuse  was  heaped  upon  the  dead  rake.  But  one 
day  Ferdinando  Pagliuca  entered  the  office  of  one 
of  the  papers  in  Palermo,  struck  the  editor  in  the 
face,  forced  him  into  a  duel,  and  ran  him  through 
the  lungs  the  next  morning.  The  editor  ultimately 
recovered,  but  the  Pagliuca  had  asserted  them- 
selves, and  there  was  no  more  scurrilous  talk  in 
the  press  about  poor  dead  Corleone. 

Things  turned  out  to  be  not  quite  so  bad  as  he 
had  imagined.  Here  and  there,  a  little  property 
had  escaped,  perhaps  because  he  hardly  knew  of 
its  existence.  There  was  a  small  house  in  Rome, 
in  the  new  quarter,  which  he  had  bought  for  a 
young  person  in  whom  he  had  been  temporarily 
interested,  and  which,  by  some  miracle,  was  not 
mortgaged.  The  mortgages  on  some  of  the  princi- 
pal estates  in  Sicily  had  found  their  way  to  the 
capacious  desk  of  the  Marchese  di  San  Giacinto, 
whose  name  was  Giovanni  Saracinesca,  and  who 
represented  a  branch  of  that  family.  San  Giacinto 
was  enormously  rich,  and  was  a  singular  combina- 
tion of  old  blood  and  modern  instincts ;  a  man  of 
honour,  but  of  terrible  will  and  a  good  enemy ;  a 
man  of  very  large  views  and  of  many  great  proj- 
ects, some  of  which  were  already  successfully 


CORLEONE  41 

carried  out,  some  in  course  of  execution,  some  as 
yet  only  planned.  In  the  great  crisis,  he  had 
neither  lost  much  nor  profited  immediately  by  the 
disasters  of  others.  No  one  called  him  grasping, 
and  yet  everything  worth  having  that  came  within 
his  long  reach  came  sooner  or  later  into  his  pos- 
session. When  land  and  houses  lost  value  and 
everything  in  the  way  of  business  was  dull  and 
dead,  San  Giacinto  was  steadily  buying.  When 
all  had  been  excitement  and  mad  speculation,  he 
had  quietly  saved  his  money  and  waited.  And  in 
the  course  of  his  investments  he  had  picked  up 
the  best  of  the  Corleone  mortgages,  without  troub- 
ling himself  much  as  to  whether  the  interest  were 
very  regularly  paid  or  not.  Before  long  he  knew 
very  well  that  it  would  not  be  paid  at  all,  and 
that  the  lands  would  fall  to  him  when  Corleone 
should  have  completely  ruined  himself. 

The  Pagliuca  family  moved  to  Rome  before  the 
settlement  of  the  inheritance  was  finished,  and 
Vittoria  was  at  last  taken  from  the  convent  and 
accompanied  her  mother.  Ferdinando  alone  re- 
mained at  Camaldoli.  The  family  established 
themselves  in  an  apartment  in  the  new  quarter, 
and  began  to  live  well,  if  not  extravagantly,  on 
what  was  still  a  very  uncertain  income.  Tebaldo, 
who  managed  all  the  business  himself,  succeeded 
in  selling  the  house  in  Rome  advantageously. 
Through  San  Giacinto  he  made  acquaintance  with 


42  CORLEONE 

a  few  Romans,  who  treated  him  courteously  and 
regarded  him  with  curiosity  as  the  nephew  of  the 
notorious  Prince  Corleone.  As  for  the  title,  San 
Giacinto  advised  him  not  to  assume  it  at  once,  as 
it  would  not  be  of  any  especial  advantage  to  him. 

San  Giacinto  was  on  excellent  terms  with  all  his 
Saracinesca  relations,  and  very  naturally  spoke  to 
them  about  the  d'Oriani.  In  his  heart  he  did  not 
like  and  did  not  trust  Tebaldo,  and  thought  his 
brother  Francesco  little  better;  but,  in  spite  of 
this,  he  could  not  help  feeling  a  sort  of  pity  for 
the  two  young  men,  whose  story  reminded  him  of 
his  own  romantic  beginnings.  San  Giacinto  was 
a  giant  in  strength  and  stature,  and  it  is  undoubt- 
edly true  that  in  all  giants  a  tendency  to  good- 
nature and  kindliness  will  sooner  or  later  assert 
itself.  He  was  advancing  in  years  now,  and  the 
initial  hardness  of  his  rough  nature  had  been  tem- 
pered by  years  of  success  and  of  almost  phenome- 
nal domestic  felicity.  He  was  strong  still,  in  body 
and  mind,  and  not  easily  deceived;  but  he  had 
grown  kind.  He  pitied  the  Pagliuca  tribe,  and 
took  his  wife  to  see  Donna  Maria  Carolina.  He 
persuaded  the  Princess  of  Sant'  Ilario  to  receive 
her  and  make  acquaintance,  and  the  Marchesa  di 
San  Giacinto  brought  her  to  the  palace  one  after- 
noon with  Vittoria. 

Corona  thought  the  mother  pretentious,  and 
guessed  that  she  was  at  once  bad-tempered  and 


CORLEONE  43 

foolish;  but  she  saw  at  a  glance  that  the  young 
girl  was  of  a  very  different  type,  and  a  few  kindly 
questions,  while  Donna  Maria  Carolina  talked  with 
the  Marchesa,  explained  to  Corona  the  mystery. 
Yittoria  had  never  been  at  home,  even  for  a  visit, 
during  the  ten  years  which  had  elapsed  since  she 
had  been  placed  at  the  convent,  and  her  mother 
was  almost  a  stranger  to  her.  She  was  not  exactly 
timid,  as  Corona  could  see,  but  her  young  grace 
was  delicately  nurtured  and  shrank  and  froze  in 
the  presence  of  her  mother's  coarse-grained  self- 
assertion. 

"  Shall  we  marry  her  in  Rome,  do  you  think, 
Princess  ?  "  asked  Donna  Maria  Carolina,  nodding 
her  head  indicatively  towards  her  daughter,  while 
her  eyes  looked  at  Corona,  and  she  smiled  with 
much  significance. 

Vittoria's  soft  brown  eyes  grew  suddenly  bright 
and  hard,  and  the  blood  sprang  up  in  her  face  as 
though  she  had  been  struck,  and  her  small  hands 
tightened  quietly  on  her  parasol;  but  she  said 
nothing,  and  looked  down. 

"  I  hope  that  your  daughter  may  marry  very 
happily,"  said  Corona,  with  a  kind  intonation,  for 
she  saw  the  girl's  embarrassment  and  understood  it. 

The  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto  laughed  quite 
frankly.  Her  laughter  was  good-humoured,  not 
noisy,  and  distinctly  aristocratic,  it  is  true;  but 
Vittoria  resented  it,  because  she  knew  that  it  was 


44  CORLEONE 

elicited  by  her  mother's  remark,  which  had  been 
in  bad  taste.  Corona  saw  this  also. 

"  Yon  always  laugh  at  the  mention  of  marriage, 
Flavia,"  said  the  Princess,  "and  yet  you  are  the 
most  happily  married  woman  I  know." 

"  Oh,  that  is  true ! "  answered  the  Marchesa. 
"  My  giant  is  good  to  me,  even  now  that  my  hair 
is  grey." 

It  was  true  that  there  were  many  silver  threads 
in  the  thick  and  waving  hair  that  grew  low  over 
her  forehead,  but  her  face  had  lost  none  of  its 
freshness,  and  her  eyes  had  all  their  old  vivacity. 
She  was  of  the  type  of  women  who  generally  live 
to  a  great  age. 

Donna  Maria  Carolina  rose  to  go.  In  saying 
goodbye,  Corona  took  Vittoria's  hand. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  it  is  so  late  in  the  season,  my 
dear,"  she  said.  "You  will  have  little  to  amuse 
you  until  next  year.  But  you  must  come  to  dinner 
with  your  mother.  Will  you  come,  and  bring  her  ?  " 
she  asked,  turning  to  Donna  Maria  Carolina. 

The  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto  stared  in  well- 
bred  surprise,  for  Corona  was  not  in  the  habit  of 
asking  people  to  dinner  at  first  sight.  Of  course 
her  invitation  was  accepted. 


CHAPTER  III 

SAN  GIACINTO  and  his  wife  came  to  the  dinner, 
and  two  or  three  others,  and  the  d'Oriaui  made  a 
sort  of  formal  entry  into  Roman  society  under 
the  best  possible  auspices.  In  spite  of  Corona's 
good  taste  and  womanly  influence,  festivities  at 
the  Palazzo  Saracinesca  always  had  an  impressive 
and  almost  solemn  character.  Perhaps  there  were 
too  many  men  in  the  family,  and  they  were  all 
too  dark  and  grave,  from  the  aged  Prince  to  his 
youngest  grandson,  who  was  barely  of  age,  and 
whose  black  eyebrows  met  over  his  Roman  nose 
and  seemed  to  shade  his  eyes  too  much.  Ippolito, 
the  exception  in  his  family,  as  Vittoria  d'Oriani 
was  in  hers,  did  not  appear  at  table,  but  came 
into  the  drawing-room  in  the  evening.  The  Prince 
himself  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  rarely 
spoke.  Corona  could  see  that  "he  was  not  pleased 
with  the  Pagliuca  tribe,  and  she  did  her  best  to 
help  on  conversation  and  to  make  Flavia  San 
Giacinto  talk,  as  she  could  when  she  chose. 

From  time  to  time,  she  looked  at  Orsino,  whose 
face  that  evening  expressed  nothing,  but  whose 
eyes  were  almost  constantly  turned  towards  Vit- 
45 


46  CORLEOXE 

toria.  It  had  happened  naturally  enough  that  he 
sat  next  to  her,  and  it  was  an  unusual  experience 
for  him.  Of  course,  in  the  round  of  society,  he 
occasionally  found  himself  placed  next  to  a  young 
girl  at  dinner,  and  he  generally  was  thoroughly 
bored  on  such  occasions.  It  was  either  intentional 
or  accidental  on  the  part  of  his  hosts,  whoever 
they  might  be.  If  it  was  intentional,  he  had  been 
made  to  sit  next  to  some  particularly  desirable 
damsel  of  great  birth  and  fortune,  in  the  hope 
that  he  might  fall  in  love  with  her  and  make  her 
the  future  Princess  Saracinesca.  And  he  resented 
in  gloomy  silence  every  such  attempt  to  capture 
him.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  he  chanced  to  be  acci- 
dentally set  down  beside  a  young  girl,  it  happened 
according  to  the  laws  of  precedence;  and  it  was 
ten  to  one  that  the  young  lady  had  nothing  to 
recommend  her,  either  in  the  way  of  face,  fortune, 
or  conversation.  But  neither  case  occurred  often. 

The  present  occasion  was  altogether  exceptional. 
Vittoria  d'Oriani  had  never  been  to  a  dinner-party 
before,  and  everything  was  new  to  her.  It  was 
quite  her  hrst  appearance  in  society,  and  Orsino 
Saraciuesca  was  the  first  man  who  could  be  called 
young,  except  her  brothers,  Avith  whom  she  had 
ever  exchanged  a  dozen  words.  It  was  scarcely  two 
months  since  she  had  left  the  convent,  and  during 
that  time  her  mind  had  been  constantly  crowded 
with  new  impressions,  and  as  constantly  irritated 


COELEONE  47 

by  her  mother's  manner  and  conversation.  Her 
education  was  undoubtedly  very  limited,  though  in 
this  respect  it  only  differed  in  a  small  degree  from 
that  of  many  young  girls  whom  Orsino  had  met; 
but  it  was  liberal  as  compared  with  her  mother's, 
as  her  ideas  upon  religion  were  broad  in  comparison 
with  Donna  Maria  Carolina's  complicated  system  of 
superstition. 

Yittoria's  brown  eyes  were  very  wide  open,  as 
she  sat  quietly  in  her  place,  listening  to  what  was 
said,  and  tasting  a  number  of  things  which  she  had 
never  seen  before.  She  looked  often  at  Corona, 
and  wished  that  she  might  be  like  her  some  day, 
which  was  quite  impossible.  And  she  glanced  at 
Orsino  from  time  to  time,  and  answered 'his  re- 
marks briefly  and  simply.  She  could  not  help 
seeing  that  he  was  watching  her,  and  now  and 
then  the  blood  rose  softly  in  her  cheeks.  On  her 
other  side  sat  Gianbattista  Pietrasanta,  whose  wife 
was  a  Frangipani,  and  who  was  especially  amused 
and  interested  by  .Vittoria's  mother,  his  other 
neighbour,  but  paid  little  attention  to  the  young 
girl  herself. 

A  great  writer  has  very  truly  said  that  psy- 
chological analysis,  in  a  book,  can  never  be  more 
than  a  series  of  statements  on  the  part  of  the 
author,  telling  what  he  himself  fancies  that  he 
might  have  felt,  could  he  have  been  placed  in  the 
position  of  the  particular  person  Avhom  he  is  ana- 


48  CORLEONE 

lyzing.  It  is  extremely  doubtful  whether  any  male 
writer  can,  by  the  greatest  effort  of  imagination, 
clothe  himself  in  the  ingenuous  purity  of  thought 
and  intention  which  is  the  whole  being  of  such 
a  young  girl  as  Vittoria  d'Oriani  when  she  first 
enters  the  world,  after  having  spent  ten  years  in 
a  religious  community  of  refined  women. 

The  creature  we  imagine,  when  we  try  to  under- 
stand such  maiden  innocence,  is  colourless  and 
dull.  Her  mind  and  heart  are  white  as  snow,  but 
blankly  white,  as  the  snow  011  a  boundless  plain, 
without  so  much  as  a  fence  or  a  tree  to  relieve 
the  utter  monotony.  There  is  no  beauty  in  such 
whiteness  in  nature,  except  when  it  blushes  at 
dawn  and  sunset.  Alone  on  snow,  and  with  noth- 
ing but  snow  in  sight,  men  often  go  mad;  for 
snow-madness  is  a  known  and  recognized  form  of 
insanity. 

Evidently  our  imagination  fails  to  evoke  a  true 
image  in  such  a  case.  We  are  aware  that  maiden 
innocence  is  a  state,  and  not  a  form  of  character. 
The  difficulty  lies  in  representing  to  ourselves  a 
definite  character  in  just  that  state.  For  to  the 
word  innocence  we  attach  no  narrow  meaning;  it 
extends  to  every  question  which  touches  humanity, 
to  every  motive  in  all  dealings,  and  to  every  pur- 
pose which,  in  that  blank  state,  a  girl  attributes 
to  all  human  beings,  living  and  dead.  It  is  a 
magic  window  through  which  all  good  things  ap- 


COBLEONE  49 

pear  clearly,  though  not  often  truly,  and  all  bad 
things  are  either  completely  invisible,  or  seen  in  a 
dull,  neutral,  and  totally  uninteresting  shadow  of 
uniform  misunderstanding.  We  judge  that  it  must 
be  so,  from  our  observation.  This  is  not  analysis, 
but  inspection. 

Behind  the  blank  lies,  in  the  first  place,  the 
temperament,  then  the  character,  then  the  mind, 
and  then  that  great,  uncertain  element  of  heredity, 
monstrous  or  god-like,  which  animates  and  moves 
all  three  in  the  gestation  of  unborn  fate,  and  which 
is  fate  itself  in  later  life,  so  far  as  there  is  any 
such  thing  as  fatality. 

Behind  the  blank  there  may  be  turbulent  and 
passionate  blood,  there  may  be  a  character  of  iron 
and  a  man-ruling  mind.  But  the  blank  is  a  blank, 
for  all  that.  Catherine  of  Russia  was  once  an 
innocent  and  quiet  little  German  girl,  with  empty, 
wondering  eyes,  and  school-girl  sentimentalities. 
Goethe  might  have  taken  her  f or- Werther's  Char- 
lotte. Good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  the  future  woman 
is  at  the  magic  window,  and  all  that  she  is  to  be 
is  within  her  already. 

Vittoria  d'Oriani  was  certainly  not  to  be  a  Cath- 
erine, but  there  was  no  lack  of  conflicting  heredities 
beneath  her  innocence.  Orsino  had  thought  more 
than  most  young  men  of  his  age,  and  he  was 
aware  of  the  fact,  as  he  looked  at  her  and  talked 
with  her,  and  carried  on  one  of  those  apparently 

VOL.    I. E 


50  CORLEONE 

empty  conversations,  of  which  the  recollection 
sometimes  remains  throughout  a  lifetime,  while  he 
quietly  studied  her  face,  and  tried  to  find  out  the 
secret  of  its  rare  charm. 

He  began  by  treating  her  almost  as  a  foreigner. 
He  remembered  long  afterwards  how  he  smiled  as 
he  asked  her  the  first  familiar  question,  as  though 
she  had  been  an  English  girl,  or  Miss  Lizzie  Slay- 
back,  the  heiress  from  Nevada. 

"  How  do  you  like  Eome  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  great  city,"  answered  Vittoria. 

"  But  you  do  not  like  it  ?  You  do  not  think  it 
is  beautiful  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  it  is  not  Palermo,"  said  the  young 
girl,  quite  naturally.  "  It  has  not  the  sea ;  it  has 
not  the  mountains  — 

"  No  mountains  ?  "  interrupted  Orsino,  smiling. 
"  But  there  are  mountains  all  round  Koine." 

"Not  like  Palermo,"  replied  Vittoria,  soberly. 
"  And  then  it  has  not  the  beautiful  streets.'"' 

"  Poor  Koine !  "  Orsino  laughed  a  little.  "  Not 
even  fine  streets  !  Have  you  seen  nothing  that 
pleases  you  here?" 

"  Oh  yes, — there  are  fine  houses,  and  I  have  seen 
the  Tiber,  and  the  Queen,  and—  "  she  stopped  short. 

"  And  what  else  ?  "  enquired  Orsino,  very  much 
amused. 

Vittoria  turned  her  brown  eyes  full  upon  him, 
and  paused  a  moment  before  she  answered. 


CORLEONE  51 

"You  are  making  me  say  things  which  seem 
foolish  to  you,  though  they  seem  sensible  to  me," 
she  said  quietly. 

"They  seem  original,  not  foolish.  It  is  quite 
true  that  Palermo  is  a  beautiful  city,  but  we 
Romans  forget  it.  And  if  you  have  never  seen 
another  river,  the  Tiber  is  interesting,  I  suppose. 
That  is  what  you  mean.  No,  it  is  quite  reasonable." 

Vittoria  blushed  a  little,  and  looked  down,  only 
half  reassured.  It  was  her  first  attempt  at  con- 
versation, and  she  had  said  what  she  thought, 
naturally  and  simply.  She  was  not  sure  whether 
the  great  dark  young  man,  who  had  eyes  exactly 
like  his  mother's,  was  laughing  at  her  or  not.  But 
he  did  not  know  that  she  had  never  been  to  a  party 
in  her  life. 

"  Is  the  society  in  Palermo  amusing  ?  "  he  en- 
quired carelessly. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  again  blush- 
ing, for  she  was  a  little  ashamed  of  being  so  very 
young.  "  I  left  thje  convent  on  the  day  we  started 
to  come  to  Rome.  And  my  mother  did  not  live  in 
Palermo,"  she  added. 

"  No  —  I  had  forgotten  that." 

Orsino  relapsed  into  silence  for  a  while.  He 
would  willingly  have  given  up  the  attempt  at 
conversation,  so  far  as  concerned  any  hope  of 
making  it  interesting.  But  he  liked  the  sound 
of  Vittoria's  voice,  and  he  wished  she  Avould  speak 


52  COR  LEONE 

again.  On  his  right  hand  was  Tebaldo,  who,  as 
the  head  of  a  family,  and  not  a  Roman,  sat  next 
to  Corona.  He  seemed  to  be  making  her  rather 
bold  compliments.  Orsino  caught  a  phrase. 

"  You  are  certainly  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
Italy,  Princess,"  the  Sicilian  was  saying. 

Orsino  raised  his  head,  and  turned  slowly  towards 
the  speaker.  As  he  did  so,  he  saw  his  mother's 
look.  Her  brows  were  a  little  contracted,  which 
was  unusual,  but  she  was  just  turning  away  to 
speak  to  San  Giacinto  on  her  other  side,  with  an 
otherwise  perfectly  indifferent  expression.  Orsino 
laughed. 

"  My  mother  has  been  the  most  beautiful  woman 
in  Europe  since  before  I  was  born,"  he  said,  ad- 
dressing Tebaldo  rather  pointedly,  for  the  latter's 
remark  had  been  perfectly  audible  to  him. 

Tebaldo  had  a  thin  face,  with  a  square,  narrow 
forehead,  and  heavy  jaws  that  came  to  an  over- 
pointed  chin.  His  upper  lip  was  very  short,  and 
his  moustache  was  unusually  small,  black  and 
glossy,  and  turned  up  at  the  ends  in  aggressive 
points.  His  upper  teeth  were  sharp,  long,  and 
regular,  and  he  showed  them  when  he  smiled. 
The  smile  did  not  extend  upwards  above  the 
nostrils,  and  there  was  something  almost  sinister 
in  the  still  black  eyes.  In  the  front  view  the 
lower  part  of  the  face  was  triangular,  and  the  low 
forehead  made  the  upper  portion  seem  square.  He 


COELEONE  53 

was  a  man  of  bilious  constitution,  of  an  even, 
yellow-brown  complexion,  rather  lank  and  bony  in 
frame,  but  of  a  type  which  is  often  very  enduring. 
Such  men  sometimes  have  violent  and  uncontrolled 
tempers,  combined  with  great  cunning,  quickness 
of  intelligence,  and  an  extraordinary  power  of  tak- 
ing advantage  of  circumstances. 

Tebaldo  smiled  at  Orsino's  remark,  not  at  all 
acknowledging  that  it  might  be  intended  as  a 
rebuke. 

"It  is  hard  to  believe  that  she  can  be  your 
mother,"  he  said  quietly,  and  with  such  frankness 
as  completely  disarmed  resentment. 

But  Orsino  in  his  thoughts  contrasted  Tebaldo's 
present  tone  with  the  sound  of  his  voice  when 
speaking  to  the  Princess  an  instant  earlier,  and  he 
forthwith  disliked  the  man,  and  believed  him  to  be 
false  and  double.  Corona  either  had  not  heard,  or 
pretended  not  to  hear,  and  talked  indifferently 
with  San  Giacinto,  whose  vast,  lean  frame  seemed 
to  fill  two  places  at  the  table,  while  his  energetic 
grey  head  towered  high  above  everyone  else.  Or- 
sino turned  to  Vittoria  again. 

"  Should  you  be  pleased  if  someone  told  you  that 
you  were  the  most  beautiful  young  lady  in  Italy  ?  " 
he  enquired. 

Vittoria  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 

"  No,"  she  answered.  "  It  would  not  be  true. 
How  should  I  be  pleased  ?  " 


54  CORLEONE 

"But  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that 
it  Avere  true.  I  am  imagining  a  case.  Should  you 
be  pleased  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  —  I  think  —  "  She  hesitated 
and  paused. 

"  I  am  very  curious  to  know  what  you  think," 
said  Orsino,  pressing  her  for  an  answer. 

"  I  think  it  would  depend  upon  whether  I  liked 
the  person  who  told  me  so."  Again  the  blood  rose 
softly  in  her  face. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  should  think,"  answered 
Orsino,  gravely.  "Were  you  sorry  to  leave  the 
convent  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  cried  a  great  deal.  It  was  my  home  for 
so  many  years,  and  I  was  so  happy  there." 

The  girl's  eyes  grew  dreamy  as  she  looked 
absently  across  the  table  at  Guendalina  Pietra- 
santa.  She  was  evidently  lost  in  her  recollections 
of  her  life  with  the  nuns.  Orsino  was  almost 
amused  at  his  own  failure. 

"  Should  you  have  liked  to  stay  and  be  a  nun 
yourself  ?  "  he  enquired,  with  a  smile. 

."  Yes,  indeed !  At  least  —  when  I  came  away  I 
wished  to  stay." 

"  But  you  have  changed  your  mind  since  ?  You 
find  the  world  pleasanter  than  you  expected  ?  It 
is  not  a  bad  place,  I  daresay." 

"  They  told  me  that  it  was  very  bad,"  said 
Vittoria,  seriously.  "  Of  course,  they  must  know, 


CORLEONE  55 

but  I  do  not  quite  understand  what  they  mean. 
Can  you  tell  me  something  about  it,  and  why  it  is 
bad,  and  what  all  the  wickedness  is  ?  " 

Orsiuo  looked  at  her  quietly  for  a  moment, 
realizing  very  clearly  the  whiteness  of  her  life's 
unwritten  page. 

"  Your  nuns  may  be  right,"  he  said  at  last.  "  I 
am  not  in  love  Avith  the  world,  but  I  do  not  believe 
that  it  is  so  very  wicked.  At  least,  there  are 
many  good  people  in  it,  and  one  can  find  them  if 
one  chooses.  No  doubt,  we  are  all  miserable  sin- 
ners in  a  theological  sense,  but  I  am  not  a  theo- 
logian. I  have  a  brother  who  is  a  priest,  and  you 
will  see  him  after  dinner ;  but  though  he  is  a  very 
good  man,  he  does  not  give  one  the  impression  of 
believing  that  the  world  is  absolutely  bad.  It  is 
true  that  he  is  rather  a  dilettante  priest." 

Vittoria  was  evidently  shocked,  for  her  face  grew 
extraordinarily  grave  and  a  shade  paler.  She 
looked  at  Orsino  in  a  startled  way  and  then  at 
her  plate. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  he  asked  quickly. 
"Have  I  shocked  you?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  almost  in  a  whisper  and 
still  looking  down.  "  That  is,"  she  added  with  hesi- 
tation, "  perhaps  I  did  not  quite  understand  you." 

"  No,  you  did  not,  if  you  are  shocked.  I  merely 
meant  that  although  my  brother  is  a  very  good 
man,  and  a  very  religious  man,  and  believes  that 


56  COIiLEONE 

he  has  a  vocation,  and  does  his  best  to  be  a  good 
priest,  he  has  other  interests  in  life  for  which  I 
am  sure  that  he  cares  more,  though  he  may  not 
know  it." 

"What  other  interests?"  asked  Vittoria,  rather 
timidly. 

"Well,  only  one,  perhaps,  —  music.  He  is  a 
musician  first,  and  a  priest  afterwards." 

The  young  girl's  face  brightened  instantly.  She 
had  expected  something  very  terrible,  perhaps, 
though  quite  undefined. 

"He  says  mass  in  the  morning,"  continued  Or- 
sino,  "  and  it  may  take  him  an  hour  or  so  to  read 
his  breviary  conscientiously  in  the  afternoon.  The 
rest  of  his  time  he  spends  over  the  piano." 

"  But  it  is  not  profane  music  ?  "  asked  Vittoria, 
giwving  anxious  again. 

"  Oh  no  ! "  Orsino  smiled.  "  He  composes 
masses  and  symphonies  and  motetts." 

"  Well,  there  is  no  harm  in  that,"  said  Vittoria, 
indifferently,  being  again  reassured. 

"Certainly  not.  I  wish  I  had  the  talent  and  the 
interest  in  it  to  do  it  myself.  I  believe  that  the 
chief  real  wickedness  is  doing  nothing  at  all." 

"  Sloth  is  one  of  the  capital  sins,"  observed  Vit- 
toria, who  knew  the  names  of  all  seven. 

"It  is  also  the  most  tiresome  sin  imaginable, 
especially  when  one  is  condemned  to  it  for  life, 
as  I  am." 


CORLEONE  57 

The  young  girl  looked  at  him  anxiously,  and 
there  was  a  little  pause. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked.  "  No  one  is 
obliged  to  be  idle." 

"  Will  you  find  me  an  occupation?  "  Orsino  asked 
in  his  turn,  and  with  some  bitterness.  "  I  shall  be 
gratified." 

"  Is  not  doing  good  an  occupation  ?  I  am  sure 
that  there  must  be  plenty  of  opportunities  for 
that." 

She  felt  more  sure  of  herself  when  upon  such 
ground.  Orsino  did  not  smile. 

"  Yes.  It  might  take  up  a  man's  whole  life,  but 
it  is  not  a  career  —  " 

"  It  was  the  career  of  many  of  the  saints ! "  inter- 
rupted "Vittoria,  cheerfully,  for  she  was  beginning 
to  feel  at  her  ease  at  last.  "  Saint  Francis  of  Assisi 
—  Saint  Clare  —  Saint  —  " 

"  Pray  for  us !  "  exclaimed  Orsino,  as  though  he 
were  responding  in  a  litany. 

Vittoria's  face  fell  instantly,  and  he  regretted 
the  words  as  soon  as  he  had  spoken  them.  She 
was  like  a  sensitive  plant,  he  thought;  and  yet 
she  had  none  of  the  appearance  of  an  over- 
impressionable,  nervous  girl.  It  was  doubtless  her 
education. 

"I  have  shocked  you  again,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  am  afraid  that  you  will  often 
be  shocked,  at  first.  Yes ;  I  have  no  doubt  that  to 


58  COELEONE 

the  saints  doing  good  was  a  career,  and  that  a  saint 
might  make  a  career  of  it  nowadays.  But  you  see 
I  am  not  one.  What  I  should  like  would  be  to 
have  a  profession  of  some  sort,  and  to  work  at  it 
with  all  my  might." 

"  What  a  strange  idea ! "  Vittoria  looked  at  him 
in  surprise;  for  though  her  three  brothers  had 
been  almost  beggars  for  ten  years,  it  had  never 
struck  them  that  they  could  possibly  have  a  pro- 
fession. "But  you  are  a  noble,"  she  added 
thoughtfully.  "  You  will  be  the  Prince  Saraci- 
nesca  some  day." 

Orsino  laughed. 

"  We  do  not  think  so  much  of  those  things  as 
we  did  once,"  he  answered.  "  I  would  be  a  doctor, 
if  I  could,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a  man  of  business.  I  do 
not  think  that  I  should  like  to  be  a  shopkeeper, 
though  it  is  only  a  matter  of  prejudice  — " 

"  I  should  think  not ! "  cried  Vittoria,  startled 
again. 

"  It  would  be  much  more  interesting  than  the  life 
I  lead.  Almost  any  life  would  be,  for  that  matter. 
Of  course,  if  I  had  my  choice  —  "  He  stopped. 

Vittoria  waited,  her  eyes  fixed  earnestly  on  his 
face,  but  she  said  nothing.  Somehow  she  was 
suddenly  anxious  to  know  what  his  choice  would 
be.  He  felt  that  she  was  watching  him,  and  turned 
towards  her.  Their  eyes  met  in  silence,  and  he 
smiled,  but  her  face  remained  grave.  He  was 


COELEONE  59 

thinking  that  this  must  certainly  be  one  of  the 
most  absurd  conversations  in  which  he  had  ever 
been  engaged,  but  that  somehow  it  did  not  appear 
absurd  to  himself,  and  he  wondered  why. 

"If  I  had  my  choice—  He  paused  again. 
"I  would  be  a  leader,"  he  added  suddenly. 

He  was  still  young,  and  there  was  ambition  in 
him.  His  dark  eyes  flashed  like  his  mother's,  a 
warmer  colour  rose  for  one  instant  under  his  olive 
skin;  the  fine,  firm  mouth  set  itself. 

"  I  think  you  could  be,"  said  Vittoria,  almost 
under  her  breath  and  half  unconsciously. 

Then,  all  at  once,  she  blushed  scarlet,  and  turned 
her  face  away  to  hide  her  colour.  If  there  is  one 
thing  in  woman  which  more  than  any  other  attracts 
a  misunderstood  man,  it  is  the  conviction  that  she 
believes  him  capable  of  great  deeds ;  and  if  there 
is  one  thing  beyond  others  which  leads  a  woman 
to  love  a  man,  it  is  her  own  certainty  that  he  is 
really  superior  to  those  around  him,  and  really 
needs  woman's  sympathy.  Youth,  beauty,  charm, 
eloquence,  are  all  second  to  these  in  their  power  to 
implant  genuine  loVe,  or  to  maintain  it,  if  they 
continue  to  exist  as  conditions. 

It  mattered  little  to  Vittoria  that  she  had  as 
yet  no  means  whatever  of  judging  whether  Orsino 
Saracinesca  had  any  such  extraordinary  powers  as 
might  some  day  make  him  a  leader  among  men. 
She  had  been  hardly  conscious  of  the  strong  im- 


60  COELEONE 

pression  she  had  received,  and  which  had  made 
her  speak,  and  she  was  far  too  young  and  simple 
to  argne  with  herself  about  it.  And  he,  on  his 
part,  with  a  good  deal  of  experience  behind  him 
and  the  memory  of  one  older  woman's  absolute 
devotion  and  sacrifice,  felt  a  keen  and  unexpected 
pleasure,  quite  different  from  anything  he  remem- 
bered to  have  felt  before  now.  Nor  did  he  reason 
about  it  at  first,  for  he  was  not  a  great  reasoner  and 
his  pleasures  in  life  were  really  very  few. 

A  moment  or  two  after  Vittoria  had  spoken/  and 
when  she  had  already  turned  away  her  face,  Orsino 
shook  his  head  almost  imperceptibly,  as  though 
trying  to  throw  something  off  which  annoyed  him. 
It  was  near  the  end  of  dinner  before  the  two  spoke 
to  each  other  again,  though  Vittoria  half  turned 
towards  him  twice  in  the  mean  time,  as  though 
expecting  him  to  speak,  and  then,  disappointed, 
looked  at  her  plate  again. 

"  Are  you  going  to  stay  in  Rome,  or  shall  yon  go 
back  to  Sicily  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly,  not  looking 
at  her,  but  at  the  small  white  hand  that  touched 
the  edge  of  the  table  beside  him. 

Vittoria  started  perceptibly  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice,  as  though  she  had  been  in  a  reverie,  and  her 
hand  disappeared  at  the  same  instant.  Orsino 
found  himself  staring  at  the  tablecloth,  at  the 
spot  where  it  had  lain. 

"  I  think  —  I  hope  we  shall  stay  in  Rome,"  she 


CORLEONE  61 

answered.  "  My  brother  has  a  great  deal  of  busi- 
ness here." 

"Yes.  I  know.  He  sees  my  cousin  San  Gia- 
cinto  about  it  almost  every  day." 

«  Yes." 

Her  face  grew  thoughtful  again,  but  not  dreamily 
so  as  before,  and  she  seemed  to  hesitate,  as  though 
she  had  more  to  say. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Orsino,  encouraging  her 
to  go  on. 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  not  to  tell  you.  The  Marchese 
wishes  to  buy  Cainaldoli  of  us." 

"What  is  Camaldoli?" 

"  It  is  the  old  country  house  where  my  mother 
and  my  brothers  lived  so  long,  Avhile  I  Avas  in  the 
convent,  after  my  father  died.  There  is  a  little 
land.  It  was  all  we  had  until  now." 

"  Shall  you  be  glad  if  it  is  sold,  or  sorry  ? " 
asked  Orsino,  thoughtfully,  and  watching  her  face. 

"  I  shall  be  glad,  I  suppose,"  she  answered. 
"  It  would  have  to  be  divided  among  us,  they  say. 
And  it  is  half  in  ruins,  and  the  land  is  worth 
nothing,  and  there  are  always  brigands." 

Orsino  laughed. 

"  Yes.  I  should  think  you  might  be  very  glad 
to  get  rid  of  it.  There  is  no  difficulty  about  it,  is 
there  ?  " 

"  Only  —  I  have  another  brother.  He  likes  it 
and  has  remained  there.  His  name  is  Ferdinando. 


62  COR  LEONE 

Xo  one  knows  why  he  is  so  fond  of  the  place. 
They  need  his  consent,  in  order  to  sell  it,  and  he 
will  not  agree." 

"  I  understand.  What  sort  of  man  is  your  brother 
Ferdinando  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  seen  him  for  ten  years.  They  are 
afraid  of  —  I  mean,  he  is  afraid  of  nothing." 

There  was  something  odd,  Orsino  thought,  about 
the  way  the  young  girl  shut  her  lips  when  she 
checked  herself  in  the  middle  of  the  sentence, 
but  he  had  no  idea  what  she  had  been  about  to 
say.  Just  then  Corona  nodded  slightly  to  the 
aged  Prince  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  and 
dinner  was  over. 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  necessary  for  San 
Giacinto  to  see  this  other  brother  of  yours,"  ob- 
served Orsino,  finishing  the  conversation  as  he 
rose  and  stood  ready  to  take  Vittoria  out. 

The  little  ungloved  hand  lay  like  a  white  butter- 
fly on  his  black  sleeve,  and  she  had  to  raise  her 
arm  a  little  to  take  his,  though  she  was  not  short. 
Just  before  them  went  San  Giacinto,  darkening 
the  way  like  a  figure  of  fate.  Vittoria  looked  up 
at  him,  almost  awe-struck  at  his  mere  size. 

"  How  tall  he  is !  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  very  low 
voice.  '•  How  very  tall  he  is ! "  she  said  again. 

"  We  are  used  to  him,"  answered  Orsino,  with  a 
short  laugh.  "  But  he  has  a  big  heart,  though  he 
looks  so  grim." 


CORLEONE  63 

Half  an  hour  later,  when  the  men  were  smoking 
in  a  room  by  themselves,  San  Giacinto  came  and 
sat  down  by  Orsino  in  the  remote  corner  where  the 
latter  had  established  himself,  with  a  cigarette. 
The  giant,  as  ever  of  old,  had  a  villainous  looking 
black  cigar  between  his  teeth. 

"Do  you  want  something  to  do?"  he  asked 
bluntly. 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  care  to  live  in  Sicily  for  a  time  ?  " 

"Anywhere  —  Japan,  if  you  like." 

"  You  are  easily  pleased.  That  means  that  you 
are  not  in  love  just  at  present,  I  suppose." 

San  Giacinto  looked  hard  at  his  young  cousin 
for  some  time,  in  silence.  Orsino  met  his  glance 
quietly,  but  with  some  curiosity. 

"Do  you  ever  go  to  see  the  Countess  Del 
Ferice?"  asked  the  big  man  at  last. 

Orsino  straightened  himself  in  his  chair  and 
frowned  a  little,  and  then  looked  away  as  he 
answered  by  a  cross-question,  knocking  the  ash 
off  his  cigarette  upon  a  little  rock  crystal  dish  at 
his  elbow. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  that  ? "  he  enquired 
rather  sternly. 

"  Because  you  were  very  much  attracted  by  her 
once,  and  I  wished  to  know  whether  you  had  kept 
up  the  acquaintance  since  her  marriage." 

"  I    have   kept  up  the   acquaintance  —  and   no 


64  CORLEONE 

more,"  answered  Orsino,  meeting  his  cousin's  eyes 
again.  "I  go  to  see  the  Countess  from  time  to 
time.  I  believe  we  are  on  very  good  terms." 

"Will  you  go  to  Sicily  with  me  if  I  need  you, 
and  stay  there,  and  get  an  estate  in  order  for  me  ?  " 

"With  pleasure.     When?" 

"  I  do  not  know  yet.  It  may  be  in  a  week,  or  it 
may  be  in  a  month.  It  will  be  hot  there,  and  you 
will  have  troublesome  things  to  do." 

"So  much  the  better." 

"  There  are  brigands  in  the  neighbourhood  just 
now." 

"  That  will  be  very  amusing.     I  never  saw  one." 

"  You  may  tell  Ippolito  if  you  like,  but  please 
do  not  mention  it  to  anyone  else  until  we  are 
ready  to  go.  You  know  that  your  mother  will  be 
anxious  about  you,  and  your  father  is  a  conserva- 
tive—  and  your  grandfather  is  a  firebrand,  if  he 
dislikes  an  idea.  One  would  think  that  at  his  age 
his  temper  should  have  subsided." 

"  Not  in  the  least ! "  Orsino  smiled,  for  he  loved 
the  old  man,  and  was  proud  of  his  great  age. 

"  But  you  may  tell  Ippolito  if  you  like,  and  if 
you  warn  him  to  be  discreet.  Ippolito  would  let 
himself  be  torn  in  pieces  rather  than  betray  a 
secret.  He  is  by  far  the  most  discreet  of  you  all." 

"Yes.  You  are  right,  as  usual.  You  have  a 
good  eye  for  a  good  man.  What  do  you  think  of 
all  these  Pagliuca  people,  or  Corleone,  or  d'Oriani 


COBLEONE  65 

—  or  whatever  they  call  themselves  ?  "  Orsino 
looked  keenly  at  his  cousin  as  he  asked  the 
question. 

"  Did  you  ever  meet  Corleone  ?  I  mean  the 
one  who  married  Norba's  daughter,  —  the  uncle 
of  these  boys." 

"  I  met  him  once.  From  all  accounts,  he  must 
have  been  a  particularly  disreputable  personage." 

"He  was  worse  than  that,  I  think.  I  never 
blamed  his  wife.  Well  —  these  boys  are  his 
nephews.  I  do  not  see  that  any  comment  is  nec- 
essary." San  Giacinto  smiled  thoughtfully. 

"This  young  girl  is  also  his  niece,"  observed 
Orsino,  rather  sharply. 

"  Who  knows  what  Tebaldo  Pagliuca  might  have 
been  if  he  had  spent  ten  years  amongst  devout  old 
women  in  a  convent?"  The  big  man's  smile  de- 
veloped into  an  incredulous  laugh,  in  which  Orsino 
joined. 

"  There  has  certainly  been  a  difference  of  educa- 
tion," he  admitted.  "  I  like  her." 

"You  would  confer  a  great  benefit  upon  a  dis- 
tressed family,  by  falling  in  love  with  her,"  said 
San  Giacinto.  "  That  Avorthy  mother  of  hers  was 
watching  you  two  behind  Pietrasanta's  head,  during 
dinner." 

"Another  good  reason  for  going  to  Sicily,"  an- 
swered Orsino.  "  The  young  lady  is  communica- 
tive. She  told  me,  this  evening,  that  you  were 


VOL.   I. F 


66  COR  LEONE 

trying  to  buy  some  place  of  theirs,  —  1  forget  the 
name,  —  and  that  one  of  her  brothers  objects." 

"  That  is  exactly  the  place  I  want  you  to  manage. 
The  name  is  Camaldoli." 

"Then  there  is  no  secret  about  it,"  observed 
Orsino.  "  If  she  has  told  me,  she  may  tell  the  next 
man  she  meets." 

"Certainly.  And  mysteries  are  useless,  as  a 
rule.  I  do  not  wish  to  make  any  with  you,  at  all 
events.  Here  are  the  facts.  I  am  going  to  build 
,  a  light  railway  connecting  all  those  places ;  and  I 
am  anxious  to  get  the  land  into  my  possession, 
without  much  talk.  Do  you  understand?  This 
place  of  the  Corleoiie  is  directly  in  my  line,  and 
is  one  of  the  most  important,  because  it  is  at  a 
point  through  which  I  must  pass,  to  make  the 
railway  at  all,  short  of  an  expensive  tunnel.  Your 
management  will  simply  consist  in  keeping  things 
in  order  until  the  railway  makes  the  laud  valuable. 
Then  I  shall  sell  it,  of  course." 

"  I  see.  Very  well.  Could  you  not  give  my  old 
architect  something  to  do  ?  Andrea  Con  tin  i  is  his 
name.  The  houses  we  built  for  Del  Ferice  have 
all  turned  out  well,  you  know."  Orsino  laughed 
rather  bitterly. 

"  Remind  me  of  him  at  the  proper  time,"  said 
San  Giacinto.  "Tell  him  to  learn  something  about 
building  small  railway  stations.  There  will  be 
between  fifteen  and  twenty,  altogether." 


COELEONE  67 

"I  will.  But  —  do  you  expect  that  a  railway 
in  Sicily  will  ever  pay  you?" 

"No.     I  am  not  an  idiot." 

"  Then  why  do  you  build  one,  if  that  is  not  an 
indiscreet  question  ?  " 

"The  rise  in  the  value  of  all  the  land  I  buy 
will  make  it  worth  while,  several  times  over.  It 
is  quite  simple." 

"  It  must  take  an  enormous  capital,"  said  Orsino, 
thoughtfully. 

"It  needs  a  large  sum  of  ready  money.  But 
the  lands  are  generally  mortgaged  for  long  periods, 
and  almost  to  two-thirds  of  their  selling  value. 
The  holders  of  the  mortgages  do  not  care  who 
owns  the  land.  So  I  pay  about  one-third  in 
cash." 

"  What  becomes  of  the  value  of  a  whole  country, 
when  all  the  land  is  mortgaged  for  two-thirds  of 
what  it  is  worth?"  asked  Orsino,  carelessly,  and 
half  laughing. 

But  San  Giacinto  did  not  laugh. 

"I  have  thought  about  that,"  he  answered 
gravely.  "  When  the  yield  of  the  land  is  not 
enough  to  pay  the  interest  on  the  mortgages,  the 
taxes  to  the  government,  and  some  income  to  the 
owners,  they  starve  outright,  or  emigrate.  There 
is  a  good  deal  of  starvation  nowadays,  and  a  good 
deal  of  emigration  in  search  of  bread." 

"  And  yet  they  say  that  the  value  of  land  is 


68  CORLEONE 

increasing  almost  all  over  the  country,"  objected 
Orsino.  "  You  count  on  it  yourself." 

"The  value  rises  wherever  railways  and  roads 
are  built." 

"And  what  pays  for  the  railways?" 

"The  taxes." 

"And  the  people  pay  the  taxes." 

"Exactly.  And  the  taxes  are  enormous.  The 
people  in  places  remote  from  the  projected  railway 
are  ruined  by  them,  but  the  people  who  own  land 
where  the  railways  pass  are  indirectly  very  much 
enriched  by  the  result.  Sometimes  a  private  indi- 
vidual like  myself  builds  a  light  road.  I  think 
that  is  a  source  of  wealth,  in  the  end,  to  every- 
one. But  the  building  of  the  government  roads, 
like  the  one  down  the  west  coast  of  Calabria, 
seems  to  destroy  the  balance  of  wealth  and  increase 
emigration.  It  is  a  necessary  evil." 

"  There  are  a  good  many  necessary  evils  in  our 
country,"  said  Orsino.  "  There  are  too  many." 

"  Per  aspera  ad  astra.  I  never  knew  much  Latin, 
but  I  believe  that  means  something.  There  are 
also  unnecessary  evils,  such  as  brigandage  in  Sicily, 
for  instance.  You  can  amuse  yourself  by  fighting 
that  one,  if  you  please;  though  I  have  no  doubt 
that  the  brigands  will  often  travel  by  my  railway 
—  and  they  will  certainly  go  in  the  first  class." 

The  big  man  laughed  and  rose,  leaving  Orsino 
to  meditate  upon  the  prospect  of  occupation  which 
was  opened  to  him. 


ORSINO  remained  in  his  corner  a  few  minutes, 
after  San  Giacinto  had  left  him,  and  then  rose  to 
go  into  the  drawing-room.  As  he  went  he  passed 
the  other  men  who  were  seated  and  standing,  all 
near  together  and  not  far  from  the  empty  fireplace, 
listening  to  Tebaldo  Pagliuca,  who  was  talking 
about  Sicily  with  a  very  strong  Sicilian  accent. 
Orsino  paused  a  moment  to  hear  what  he  was 
saying.  He  was  telling  the  story  of  a  frightful 
murder  committed  in  the  outskirts  of  Palermo  not 
many  weeks  earlier,  and  about  which  there  had 
been  much  talk.  But  Tebaldo  was  on  his  own 
ground  and  knew  much  more  about  it  than  had 
appeared  in  the  newspapers.  His  voice  was  not 
unpleasant.  It  was  smooth,  though  his  words 
were  broken  here  and  there  by  gutturals  which  he 
had  certainly  not  learned  on  his  own  side  of  the 
island.  There  was  a  sort  of  reserve  in  the  tones 
which  contrasted  with  the  vividness  of  the  lan- 
guage. Orsino  watched  him  and  looked  at  him 
more  keenly  than  he  had  done  as  yet.  He  was 
struck  by  the  stillness  of  the  deep  eyes,  which 
were  slightly  bloodshot,  like  those  of  some  Arabs, 
69 


70  CORLEONE 

and  at  the  same  time  by  the  mobility  and  changing 
expression  of  the  lower  part  of  the  face.  Tebaldo 
made  gestures,  too,  which  had  a  singular  directness. 
Yet  the  whole  impression  given  was  that  he  was 
a  good  actor  rather  than  a  man  of  continued,  honest 
action,  and  that  he  could  have  performed  any  other 
part  as  well.  Near  him  stood  his  brother  Fran- 
cesco. There  was  doubtless  a  family  resemblance 
between  the  two,  but  the  difference  of  constitution 
was  apparent  to  the  most  unpractised  eye.  The 
younger  man  was  stouter,  more  sanguine,  less 
nervous.  The  red  blood  glowed  with  strong  health 
under  his  brown  skin,  his  lips  were  scarlet  and 
full,  his  dark  moustache  was  soft  and  silky  like 
his  short,  smooth  hair,  and  his  eyes  were  soft, 
too,  and  moistly  bright,  very  long,  with  heavy 
drooping  lids  that  were  whiter  than  the  skin  of 
the  rest  of  the  face.  Francesco  was  no  more  like 
his  sister  than  was  Tebaldo. 

Orsino  found  himself  by  his  father  as  he  paused 
in  passing,  and  he  suddenly  realized  how  immeas- 
urably nearer  he  was  to  this  strong,  iron-grey, 
middle-sized,  silent  man  beside  him,  than  to  any 
other  one  of  all  the  men  in  the  room,  including 
his  own  brothers.  Sant'  Ilario  had  perhaps  never 
understood  his  eldest  son;  or  perhaps  there  was 
between  them  the  insurmountable  barrier  of  his 
own  solid  happiness.  For  it  is  sorrow  that  draws 
men  together.  Happiness  needs  no  sympathy; 


CORLEONE  71 

happiness  is  not  easily  disturbed;  happiness  that 
is  solidly  founded  is  itself  a  most  negative  source 
of  the  most  all-pervading  virtue,  without  the  least 
charity  for  unhappiness'  sins ;  happiness  suffices 
to  itself;  happiness  is  a  lantern  to  its  own  feet; 
it  is  all  things  to  one  man  and  nothing  to  all  the 
rest ;  it  is  an  impenetrable  wall  between  him  who 
has  it  and  mankind.  And  Sant'  Ilario  had  been 
happy  for  nearly  thirty  years.  In  appearance,  as 
was  to  be  anticipated,  he  had  turned  out  to  be  like 
his  father,  as  the  latter  had  been  at  the  same  age. 
In  temper,  he  was  different,  as  the  conditions  of 
his  life  had  been  of  another  sort.  The  ancient 
head  of  the  house  had  lost  his  Spanish  wife  when 
very  young,  and  had  lived  many  years  alone  with 
his  only  son.  Giovanni  had  met  with  no  such 
misfortune.  His  wife  was  alive  and  still  beautiful 
at  an  age  when  many  women  have  forgotten  the 
taste  of  flattery ;  and  his  four  sons  were  all  grown 
men,  straight  and  tall,  so  that  he  looked  up  to  their 
faces  when  they  stood  beside  him.  Strong,  peace- 
able, honest,  rather  hard-faced  young  men,  they 
were,  excepting  Ip^polito,  the  second  of  them,  who 
had  talent  and  a  lovable  disposition  in  place  of 
strength  and  hardness  of  character. 

They  were  fond  of  their  father,  no  doubt,  and 
there  was  great  solidarity  in  the  family.  But  what 
they  felt  for  Sant'  Ilario  was  perhaps  more  like  an 
allegiance  than  an  affection,  and  they  looked  to 


72  COR  LEONE 

him  as  the  principal  person  of  importance  in  the 
family,  because  their  grandfather  was  such  a  very 
old  man.  They  were  accustomed  to  take  it  for 
granted  that  he  was  infallible  when  he  expressed 
himself  definitely  in  a  family  matter,  whereas  they 
had  no  very  high  opinion  of  his  judgment  in  topics 
and  questions  of  the  day ;  for  they  had  received  a 
modern  education,  and  were  to  some  extent  imbued 
with  those  modern  prejudices  compared  with  which 
the  views  of  our  fathers  hardly  deserved  the  name 
of  a  passing  caprice. 

Orsino  thought  that  there  was  something  at  once 
cunning  and  ferocious  about  Tebaldo's  way  of  tell- 
ing the  story.  He  had  a  fine  smile  of  appreciation 
for  the  secrecy  and  patience  of  the  two  young  men 
who  had  sought  occasion  against  their  sister's  lover, 
and  there  was  a  squaring  of  the  angular  jaws  and 
a  quick  forward  movement  of  the  head,  as  of  a 
snake  when  striking,  to  accompany  his  description 
of  the  death-blow.  Orsino  listened  to  the  end  and 
then  went  quietly  out  and  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

Vittoria  d'Oriani  was  seated  near  Corona,  who 
was  talking  to  her  in  a  low  tone.  The  other  ladies 
were  standing  together  before  a  famous  old  picture. 
The  Marchesa  di  San  Giacinto  was  smoking  a 
cigarette.  Orsino  sat  down  by  his  mother,  who 
looked  at  him  quietly  and  smiled,  and  then  went 
on  speaking.  The  young  girl  glanced  at  Orsino. 


CORLEONE  73 

She  was  leaning  forward,  one  elbow  on  her  knee, 
ami  her  chin  supported  in  her  hand,  her  lips  a 
little  parted  as  she  listened  Avith  deep  interest  to 
what  the  elder  woman  said.  Corona  was  telling 
her  of  Rome  many  years  earlier,  of  the  life  in  those 
days,  of  Pius  the  Ninth,  and  of  the  coming  of  the 
Italians. 

"  How  can  you  remember  things  that  happened 
when  you  were  so  young!"  exclaimed  Vittoria, 
Avatching  the  calm  and  beautiful  face. 

"I  was  older  than  you  even  then,"  answered 
Corona,  Avith  a  smile.  "  And  I  married  very 
young,"  she  added  thoughtfully.  "  I  Avas  married 
at  your  age,  I  think.  How  old  are  you,  my  dear?" 

"  I  am  eighteen  —  just  eighteen,"  replied  Vittoria. 

"  I  was  married  Avhen  I  Avas  scarcely  seventeen. 
It  Avas  too  young." 

"  But  you  have  always  been  so  happy.  Why  do 
you  say  that  ?  " 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  I  have  always 
been  happy  ?  "  asked  the  Princess. 

"Your  face,  I  think.  One  or  tAvo  of  the  nuns 
Avere  very  happy,  toQ.  But  it  Avas  different.  They 
had  quite  another  look  on  their  faces." 

"  I  daresay,"  answered  Corona,  and  she  smiled 
again,  and  looked  proudly  at  Orsino. 

She  rose  and  crossed  the  room,  feeling  that  she 
Avas  neglecting  her  older  guests  for  the  young  girl, 
Avho  Avas  thus  left  Avith  Orsino  asrain.  He  did  not 


74  COJILEONE 

see  Donna  Maria  Carolina's  quick  glance  as  she 
discovered  the  fact,  and  made  sure  of  it,  looking 
again  and  again  at  the  two  while  she  joined  a  little 
in  the  conversation  which  was  going  on  around 
her.  She  was  very  happy,  just  then,  poor  lady, 
and  almost  forgot  to  struggle  against  the  accunm- 
lated  provincialisms  of  twenty  years,  or  to  be  anx- 
ious lest  her  new  friends  should  discover  that  her 
pearls  were  false.  For  the  passion  for  ornament, 
false  or  real,  had  not  diminished  with  the  improve- 
ment in  her  fortunes. 

But  Orsino  was  not  at  all  interested  in  Vittoria's 
mother,  and  he  had  seen  too  much  to  care  whether 
women  wore  real  jewelry  or  not.  He  had  almost 
forgotten  the  young  girl  after  dinner  when  he  had 
sat  down  in  the  corner  of  the  smoking-room,  but 
San  Giacinto's  remark  had  vividly  recalled  her 
face  to  his  memory,  with  a  strong  desire  to  see 
her  again  at  once.  Nothing  was  easier  than  to 
satisfy  such  a  wish,  and  he  found  himself  by  her 
side. 

Once  there,  he  did  not  trouble  himself  to  speak 
to  her  for  several  moments.  Vittoria  showed  con- 
siderable outward  self-possession,  though  it  was 
something  of  an  ordeal  to  sit  in  silence,  almost 
touching  him  and  not  daring  to  speak,  while  he 
was  apparently  making  up  his  mind  what  to  say. 
It  had  been  much  easier  during  dinner,  she  thought, 
because  she  had  been  put  in  her  place  without 


COBLEONE  75 

being  consulted,  and  was  expected  to  be  there,  with- 
out the  least  idea  of  attracting  attention.  Now, 
she  felt  a  little  dizzy  for  a  moment,  as  though  the 
room  were  swaying ;  and  she  was  afraid  that  she  was 
going  to  blush,  which  would  have  been  ridiculous. 

ISTow,  he  was  looking  at  her,  while  she  looked 
down  at  her  little  white  fan  that  lay  on  the  white 
stuff  of  her  frock,  quite  straight,  between  her  two 
small,  white-gloved  hands.  The  nuns  had  not  told 
her  what  to  do  in  any  such  situation.  Still  Orsino 
did  not  speak.  Two  minutes  had  crawled  by,  like 
two  hours,  and  she  felt  a  fluttering  in  her  throat. 

It  was  absurd,  she  thought.  There  was  no  reason 
for  being  so  miserable.  Very  probably,  he  was  not 
thinking  of  her  at  all.  But  it  was  of  no  use  to 
tell  herself  such  things,  for  her  embarrassment 
grew  apace,  till  she  felt  that  she  must  spring  from 
her  seat  and  run  from  the  room  without  looking 
at  him.  The  fluttering  became  almost  convulsive, 
and  her  hands  pressed  the  little  fan  on  each  side, 
clenching  themselves  tightly.  Still  he  did  not 
speak. 

In  utter  despair  she  began  to  recite  inwardly 
the  litany  of  the  saints,  biting  her  lips  lest  they 
should  move  and  he  should  guess  what  she  was 
doing.  In  her  suppressed  excitement  the  holy  per- 
sonages raced  and  tumbled  over  each  other  at  a 
most  unseemly  rate,  till  the  procession  was  vio- 
lently checked  by  the  gravely  indifferent  tones  of 


76  CORLEONE 

Orsino's  voice.     Her  hands  relaxed,  and  she  turned 
a  little  pale. 

"  Have  yon  been  to  Saint  Peter's  ?  "  he  enquired 
calmly. 

He  was  certainly  not  embarrassed,  but  he  could 
think  of  nothing  better  to  say  to  a  young  girl. 
On  the  first  occasion,  at  dinner,  he  had  asked  her 
how  she  liked  Rome.  At  all  events  it  had  opened 
the  conversation.  He  remembered  well  enough  the 
half  dozen  earnest  words  they  had  exchanged ;  and 
there  was  something  more  than  mere  memory,  for 
he  knew  that  he  half  wished  they  might  reach  the 
same  point  again.  Perhaps,  if  the  wish  had  been 
stronger  and  if  Vittoria  had  been  a  little  older,  it 
might  have  been  easier. 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  My  mother  took  me  as  soon 
as  we  came.  She  was  very  anxious  that  we  should 
pay  our  devotion  to  the  patron  saint." 

Orsino  smiled  a  little. 

.     "Saint  Peter  is  not  the  patron  of   Rome,"  he 
observed.     "Our  protector  is  San  Filippo  Neri." 

Vittoria  looked  up  in  genuine  surprise. 

"  Saint  Peter  is  not  the  patron  saint  of  Rome  !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  But  —  I  always  thought  —  " 

"  Naturally  enough.  All  sorts  of  things  in  Rome 
seem  to  be  what  they  are  not.  We  seem  to  be 
alive,  for  instance.  We  are  not.  Six  or  seven 
years  ago  we  were  all  in  a  frantic  state  of  excite- 
ment over  our  greatness.  We  have  turned  out  to 


CORLEONE  77- 

be  nothing  but  a  set  of  embalmed  specimens  in 
glass  cases.  Do  not  look  so  much  surprised,  sig- 
noriua  —  or  shocked  —  which  is  it  ?  " 

He  laughed  a  little. 

"I  cannot  help  it,"  answered  Vittoria,  simply, 
her  brown  eyes  still  fixed  on  him  in  wonder.  "  It 
is  —  it  is  all  so  different  from  what  I  expected 
—  the  things  people  say  — "  She  hesitated  and 
stopped  short,  turning  her  eyes  from  him. 

The  light  was  strong  in  the  room,  for  the  aged 
Prince  hated  the  modern  fashion  of  shading  lamps 
almost  to  a  dusk.  Orsino  watched  Vittoria's  pro- 
file, and  the  graceful  turn  of  her  young  throat  as 
she  looked  away,  and  the  fine  growth  of  silky  hair 
from  the '  temples  and  behind  the  curving  little 
ear.  The  room  was  warm,  and  he  sat  silently 
watching  her  for  a  moment.  She  was  no  longer 
embarrassed,  for  she  was  not  thinking  of  herself, 
and  she  did  not  know  how  he  was  thinking  of  her 
just  then. 

"I  wonder  what  you  expected  us  to  be  like," 
he  said  at  last.  ".And  what  you  expected  us  to 
say,"  he  added  as  an  afterthought. 

It  crossed  his  mind  that  if  she  had  been  a  mar- 
ried woman  three  or  four  years  older,  he  might 
have  found  her  very  amusing  in  conversation.  He 
could  certainly  not  have  been  talking  in  detached 
and  almost  idiotic  phrases,  as  he  was  actually 
doing.  But  if  she  had  been  a  young  married 


78  CORLEONE 

woman,  her  charm  would  have  been  different,  and 
of  a  kind  not  new  to  him.  There  was  a  novelty 
about  Vittoria,  and  it  attracted  him  strongly.  There 
was  real  freshness  and  untried  youth  in  her ;  she 
had  that  sort  of  delicacy  which  some  flowers  have, 
and  which  is  not  fragility,  the  bloom  of  a  precious 
thing  fresh  broken  from  the  mould  and  not  yet 
breathed  upon.  He  wondered  whether  all  young 
girls  had  this  inexpressible  something,  and  if  so, 
why  he  had  never  noticed  it. 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure,"  answered  Vittoria,  blush- 
ing a  little  at  the  thought  that  she  could  have  had 
a  preconceived  idea  of  Orsino  Saracinesca. 

The  reply  left  everything  to  be  desired  in  the 
way  of  brilliancy,  but  the  voice  was  soft  and  ex- 
pectant, as  some  women's  voices  are,  that  seem  just 
upon  the  point  of  vibrating  to  a  harmonic  while 
yielding  the  fundamental  tone  in  all  its  roundness. 
There  are  rare  voices  that  seem  to  possess  a  dis- 
tinct living  individuality,  apart  from  the  women 
to  whom  they  belong,  a  sort  of  extra-natural  musi- 
cal life,  of  which  the  woman  herself  cannot  con- 
trol nor  calculate  the  power.  It  is  not  the  '  golden 
voice '  which  some  great  actresses  have.  One 
recognizes  that  at  the  first  hearing;  one  admits 
its  beauty;  one  hears  it  three  or  four  times,  and 
one  knows  it  by  heart.  It  will  pronounce  certain 
phrases  in  a  certain  way,  inevitably;  it  will  soften 
and  swell  and  ring  with  mathematical  precision  at 


CORLEONE  79 

the  same  verse,  at  the  identical  word,  night  after 
night,  year  after  year,  while  it  lasts.  Vittoria's 
voice  was  not  like  that.  It  had  the  spontaneity 
of  independent  life  which  a  passion  itself  has 
when  it  takes  possession  of  a  man  or  a  woman. 
Orsino  felt  it,  and  was  conscious  of  a  new  sensi- 
tiveness in  himself. 

On  the  whole,  to  make  a  very  Avide  statement  of 
a  general  truth,  Italian  men  are  moved  by  sense 
and  Italian  women  are  stirred  by  passion.  Be- 
tween passion  and  sense  there  is  all  the  difference 
that  exists  between  the  object  and  the  idea.  Sense 
appreciates,  passion  idealizes ;  sense  desires  all 
things,  passion  hungers  for  one  ;  sense  is  material, 
though  ever  so  aesthetized  and  refined,  but  passion 
clothes  fact  with  unearthly  attributes ;  sense  is 
singly  selfish,  passion  would  make  a  single  self  of 
two.  The  sensual  man  says,  '  To  have  seen  much 
and  to  have  little  is  to  have  rich  eyes  and  poor 
hands ' ;  the  passionate  man  or  woman  will  '  put 
it  to  the  test,  to  win  or  lose  it  all,'  like  Montrose. 
Sense  is  vulgar  wheirit  is  not  monstrous  in  strength, 
or  hysterical  to  madness.  Passion  is  always  noble, 
even  in  its  sins  and  crimes.  Sense  can  be  satisfied, 
and  its  satisfaction  is  a  low  sort  of  happiness ;  but 
passion's  finer  strings  can  quiver  with  immortal 
pain,  and  ring  with  the  transcendent  harmony  that 
wakes  the  hero  even  in  a  coward's  heart. 

Vittoria   first   touched   Orsiuo    by   her   outward 


80  CORLEONE 

charm,  by  her  voice,  by  her  grace.  But  it  was  his. 
personality,  or  her  spontaneous  imagination  of  it, 
which  made  an  indelible  impression  upon  her  mind 
before  the  first  evening  of  their  acquaintance  was 
over.  The  woman  who  falls  in  love  with  a  man 
for  his  looks  alone  is  not  of  a  very  high  type,  but 
the  best  and  bravest  men  that  ever  lived  have 
fallen  victims  to  mere  beauty,  often  without  much 
intelligence,  or  faith,  or  honour. 

Orsino  was  probably  not  aware  that  he  was  fall- 
ing in  love  at  first  sight.  Very  few  men  are,  and 
yet  very  many  people  certainly  begin  to  fall  in 
love  at  a  first  meeting,  who  would  scout  the  idea 
as  an  absurdity.  For  love's  beginnings  are  most 
exceedingly  small  in  the  greatest  number  of  in- 
stances. Were  they  greater,  a  man  might  guard 
himself  more  easily  against  his  fate. 


CHAPTER  V 

AT  that  time  a  young  Sicilian  singer  had  lately 
made  her  first  appearance  in  Rome  and  had  been, 
received  with  great  favour.  She  was  probably  not 
destined  ever  to  become  one  of  the  chief  artists 
of  the  age,  but  she  possessed  exactly  the  qualifi- 
cations necessary  to  fascinate  a  Roman  audience. 
She  was  very  young,  she  was  undeniably  beautiful, 
and  she  had  what  Romans  called  a  'sympathetic' 
voice.  They  think  more  of  that  latter  quality  in 
Italy  than  elsewhere.  It  is  what  in  English  we 
might  call  charm,  and  to  have  it  is  to  have  the 
certainty  of  success  with  an  Italian  public. 

Aliandra  Basili  was  the  daughter  of  a  respect- 
able notary  in  the  ancient  town  of  Randazzo, 
which  lies  on  the  western  slope  of  Mount  Etna, 
on  the  high  road  from  Piedimonte  to  Bronte  and 
Catania,  within  two  hours'  ride  of  Camaldoli,  the 
Corleone  place.  It  is  a  solemn  old  walled  town, 
built  of  almost  black  tufo,  though  many  of  the 
houses  on  the  main  street  have  now  been  stuccoed 
and  painted ;  and  it  has  a  very  beautiful  Saracen- 
Norman  cathedral. 

Aliandra's  life  had  been  very  like  that  of  any 

VOL.   I. G  81 


82  CORLEONE 

other  provincial  girl  of  the  middle  class.  She  had 
been  educated  in  a  small  convent,  while  her  excel- 
lent father,  whose  wife  was  dead,  laboured  to  ac- 
cumulate a  little  dowry  for  his  only  child.  At 
fifteen  years  of  age,  she  had  returned  to  live  with 
him,  and  he  had  entertained  good  hopes  of  marry- 
ing her  off  before  she  was  seventeen.  In  fact, 
he  thought  that  he  had  only  to  choose  among  a 
number  of  young  men,  of  whom  any  one  would 
be  delighted  to  become  her  husband. 

Then,  one  day,  Tebaldo  and  Francesco  Pagliuca 
came  riding  down  from  Camaldoli,  and  stopped 
at  the  notary's  house  to  get  a  small  lease  drawn 
up ;  and  while  they  Avere  there,  in  the  dusty  office, 
doing  their  best  to  be  sure  of  what  old  Basili's 
legal  language  meant,  they  heard  Aliandra  singing 
to  herself  upstairs.  After  that  they  came  to  Ran- 
dazzo  again,  both  separately  and  together,  and  at 
last  they  persuaded  old  Basili  that  his  daughter 
had  a  fortune  in  her  voice  and  should  be  allowed 
to  become  a  singer.  He  consented  after  a  long 
struggle,  and  sent  her  to  Messina  to  live  with  a 
widowed  sister  of  his,  and  to  be  taxight  by  an  old 
master  of  great  reputation  who  had  taken  up  his 
abode  there.  Very  possibly  Basili  agreed  to  this 
step  with  a  view  to  removing  the  girl  to  a  distance 
from  the  two  brothers,  who  made  small  secret  of 
their  admiration  for  her,  or  about  their  jealousy 
of  each  other;  and  he  reflected  that  she  could 


COBLEONE  83 

be  better  watched  and  guarded  by  his  sister,  who 
would  have  nothing  else  to  do,  than  by  himself. 
For  he  was  a  busy  man,  and  obliged  to  spend  his 
days  either  in  his  office,  or  in  visits  to  distant 
clients,  so  that  the  motherless  girl  was  thrown 
far  too  much  upon  her  own  resources. 

Tebaldo,  on  the  other  hand,  realized  that  so 
long  as  she  lived  in  Randazzo,  he  should  have 
but  a  small  chance  of  seeing  her  alone.  He 
could  not  come  and  spend  a  week  at  a  time  in 
the  town,  but  he  could  find  an  excuse  for  being 
longer  than  that  in  Messina,  and  he  trusted  to 
his  ingenuity  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  aunt 
with  whom  she  was  to  live.  In.  Messina,  too,  he 
should  not  have  his  brother  at  his  elbow,  trying  to 
outdo  him  at  every  turn,  and  evidently  attracting 
the  young  girl  to  a  certain  extent. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Aliandra's  head  was  turned 
by  the  attentions  of  the  two  young  noblemen, 
though  her  father  never  lost  an  opportunity  of 
telling  her  that  they  were  a  pair  of  penniles's 
good-for-nothings  and  otherwise  dangerous  char- 
acters, supposed  to  be  on  good  terms  with  the 
brigands  of  the  interior,  and  typical  '  maffeusi ' 
through  and  through.  But  such  warnings  were 
much  more  calculated  to  excite  the  girl's  interest 
than  to  frighten  her.  She  had  an  artist's  nature 
and  instincts,  and  the  two  young  gentlemen  were 
very  romantic  characters  in  her  eyes,  when  they 


84  COELEONE 

rode  down  from  their  dilapidated  stronghold,  on 
their  compact  little  horses,  their  beautiful  Win- 
chester rifles  slung  over  their  shoulders,  their 
velvet  coats  catching  the  sunlight,  their  spurs 
gleaming,  and  their  broad  hats  shading  their  dark 
eyes.  Had  there  been  but  one  of  them,  her  mind 
would  soon  have  been  made  up  to  make  him  marry 
her,  and  she  might  have  succeeded  without  much 
difficulty.  But  she  found  it  hard  to  decide  be- 
tween the  two.  They  were  too  different  for  com- 
parison, and  yet  too  much  alike  for  preference. 
Tebaldo  was  a  born  tyrant,  and  Francesco  a  born 
coward.  She  was  dominated  by  the  one  and  she 
ruled  the  other,  but  she  was  not  in  love  with 
either,  and  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind 
whether  it  would  on  the  whole  be  more  agreeable 
to  love  her  master  or  her  slave. 

Meanwhile  she  made  rapid  progress  in  her 
singing,  appeared  at  the  opera  in  Palermo,  and 
almost  immediately  obtained  an  engagement  in 
Rome.  To  her  father,  the  sum  offered  her  ap- 
peared enormous,  and  her  aunt  was  delighted  by 
the  prospect  of  going  to  Rome  with  her  during 
the  winter.  Aliaudra  had  been  successful  from 
the  first,  and  she  seemed  to  be  on  the  high  road 
to  fame.  The  young  idlers  of  rich  Palermo  in- 
trigued to  be  introduced  to  her  and  threw  enor- 
mous nosegays  to  her  at  the  end  of  every  act. 
She  found  that  there  were  scores  of  men  far  hand- 


COELEONE  85 

somer  and  richer  than  the  Paglinca  brothers,  ready 
to  fall  in  love  \vith  her,  and  she  began  to  reflect 
seriously  upon  her  position.  Artist  though  she 
was,  by  one  side  of  her  nature,  there  was  in  her 
a  touch  of  her  father's  sensible  legal  instinct, 
together  with  that  extraordinary  self-preserving 
force  which  usually  distinguishes  the  young  girl 
of  southern  Italy. 

She  soon  understood  that  110  one  of  her  new 
admirers  would  ever  think  of  asking  her  to  be  his 
wife,  whereas  she  was  convinced  that  she  could 
marry  either  Tebaldo  or  Francesco,  at  her  choice 
and  pleasure.  They  were  poor,  indeed,  but  of  as 
good  nobility  as  any  of  the  rich  young  noblemen 
of  Palermo,  and  she  was  beginning  to  find  out  what 
fortunes  were  sometimes  made  by  great  singers. 
She  dreamed  of  buying  back  the  old  Corleone 
estates  and  of  being  some  day  the  Princess  of 
Corleone  herself.  That  meant  that  she  must 
choose  Tebaldo,  since  he  was  to  get  the  title. 
And  here  she  hesitated  again.  She  did  not  real- 
ize that  Francesco  was  actually  a  physical  coward 
and  rather  a  contemptible  character  altogether; 
to  her  he  merely  seemed  gentle  and  winning,  and 
she  thought  him  much  ill  used  by  his  despotic 
elder  brother.  As  for  the  third  brother,  Ferdi- 
nando,  of  whom  mention  has  been  made,  she  had 
rarely  seen  him.  He  was  probably  the  best  of 
the  family,  which  was  not  saying  much,  and  he 


86  CORLEONE 

was  also  by  far  the  least  civilized.  He  was  un- 
doubtedly in  close  communication  with  the  brig- 
ands, and  when  he  was  occasionally  absent  from 
home,  he  was  not  spending  his  time  in  Messina 
or  Randazzo. 

Time  went  on,  and  in  the  late  autumn  Aliandra 
and  her  aunt  went  to  Rome  for  the  season.  As 
has  been  seen,  it  pleased  fortune  that  the  Pagliuca 
brothers  should  be  there  also,  with  their  mother 
and  sister,  Ferdinando  remaining  in  Sicily.  When 
the  question  of  selling  Camaldoli  to  San  Giacinto 
arose,  Ferdinando  at  first  flatly  refused  to  give 
his  consent.  Thereupon  Tebaldo  wrote  him  a 
singularly  temperate  and  logical  letter,  in  which 
he  very  quietly  proposed  to  inform  the  government 
of  Ferdinando's  complicity  with  the  brigands,  un- 
less he  at  once  agreed  to  the  sale.  Ferdinando 
might  have  laughed  at  the  threat  had  it  come  from 
anyone  else,  but  he  knew  that  Tebaldo's  thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  country  and  with  the  out- 
laws' habits  would  give  him  a  terrible  advantage. 
Tebaldo,  if  he  gave  information,  could  of  course 
never  return  to  Sicily,  for  his  life  would  not  be 
safe,  even  in  broad  daylight,  in  the  Macqueda  of 
Palermo,  and  it  was  quite  possible  that  the  mafia 
might  reach  him  even  in  Rome.  But  he  was  un- 
doubtedly able  to  help  the  government  in  a  raid 
in  which  many  of  Ferdinando's  friends  must 
perish  or  be  taken  prisoners.  For  their  sakes 


CORLEONE  87 

Ferdinando  signed  his  consent  to  the  sale,  before 
old  Basili  in  Randazzo,  and  sent  the  paper  to 
Rome;  but  that  night  he  swore  that  no  Roman 
should  ever  get  possession  of  Camaldoli  while  he 
was  alive,  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  boldest  among 
the  outlaws  swore  that  they  would  stand  by  him 
in  his  resolution. 

Aliandra  knew  nothing  of  all  this,  for  Tebaldo 
was  far  too  wise  to  tell  anyone  how  he  had  forced 
his  brother's  consent.  She  would  certainly  have 
been  disgusted  with  him,  had  she  known  the  truth, 
for  she  was  morally  as  far  superior  to  him  and  to 
Francesco  as  an  innocent  girl  brought  up  by  honest 
folks  can  be  better  than  a  pair  of  exceedingly  cor- 
rupt young  adventurers.  But  they  both  had  in  a 
high  degree  the  power  of  keeping  up  appearances 
and  of  imposing  upon  their  surroundings.  Tebaldo 
was  indeed  subject  to  rare  fits  of  anger  in  which 
he  completely  lost  control  of  himself,  and  when  he 
was  capable  of  going  to  any  length  of  violence ; 
but  these  were  very  unusual,  and  as  a  general  rule 
he  was  reticent  in  the  extreme.  Francesco  pos- 
sessed the  skill  and  gentle  duplicity  of  a  born 
coward  and  a  born  ladies'  man.  They  both  de- 
ceived Aliandra,  in  spite  of  her  father's  early 
warning  and  her  old  aunt's  anxious  advice. 

Aliandra  was  successful  beyond  anyone's  expec- 
tations during  her  first  engagement  in  Rome,  and 
she  was  wise  enough  to  gain  herself  the  reputation 


88  CORLEONE 

of  being  unapproachable  to  her  many  admirers. 
Only  Tebaldo  and  Francesco,  whom  she  now  con- 
sidered as  old  friends  of  her  family,  were  ever 
admitted  to  her  room  at  the  theatre,  or  received  at 
the  quiet  apartment  where  she  lived  with  her  aunt. 

On  the  night  of  the  dinner-party  at  the  Palazzo 
Saracinesca,  Aliandra  was  to  sing  in  Lucia  for  the 
first  time  in  Rome.  Both  the  brothers  had  wished 
that  they  could  have  been  in  the  theatre  to  hear 
her,  instead  of  spending  the  evening  in  the  society 
of  those  very  stiff  and  mighty  Romans,  and  both 
made  up  their  minds  separately  that  they  would 
see  her  before  she  left  the  Argentina  that  night. 
Tebaldo,  as  usual,  took  the  lead  of  events,  and  per- 
emptorily ordered  Francesco  to  go  home  with  their 
mother  and  sister  in  the  carriage. 

When  the  Corleone  party  left  the  palace,  there- 
fore, Francesco  got  into  the  carriage,  but  Tebaldo 
said  that  he  preferred  to  walk,  and  went  out  alone 
from  under  the  great  gate.  He  was  not  yet  very 
familiar  with  the  streets  of  Rome,  but  he  believed 
that  he  knew  the  exact  situation  of  the  palace,  and 
could  easily  find  his  way  from  it  to  the  Argentina 
theatre,  which  was  not  very  far  distant. 

The  old  part  of  the  city  puzzled  him,  however. 
He  found  himself  threading  unfamiliar  ways,  dark 
lanes,  and  winding  streets  which  emerged  suddenly 
upon  small  squares  from  which  three  or  four  other 
streets  led  in  different  directions.  Instinctively 


COELEONE  89 

he  looked  behind  him  from  time  to  time,  and  felt 
in  his  pocket  for  the  pistol  which,  like  a  true  pro- 
vincial, he  thought  it  as  necessary  to  carry  in 
Rome  as  in  his  Sicilian  home.  Presently  he 
looked  at  his  watch,  saw  that  it  was  eleven  o'clock, 
and  made  up  his  mind  to  find  a  cab  if  he  could. 
But  that  was  not  an  easy  matter  either,  in  that 
part  of  the  city,  and  it  was  twenty  minutes  past 
eleven  when  he  at  last  drew  up  to  the  stage 
entrance  at  the  back  of  the  Argentina.  A  weary, 
grey,  unshaven,  and  very  dirty  old  man  admitted 
him,  looked  at  his  face,  took  the  flimsy  currency 
note  which  Tebaldo  held  out,  and  let  him  pass 
without  a  word.  The  young  man  knew  his  way 
much  better  within  the  building  than  out  in  the 
streets.  In  a  few  moments  he  stopped  before  a 
dingy  little  door,  the  last  on  the  left  in  a  narrow 
corridor  dimly  lit  by  a  single  flame  of  gas,  which 
was  turned  low  for  economy's  sake.  He  knocked 
sharply  and  opened  the  door  without  waiting  for 
an  answer. 

There  were  three  persons  in  the  small,  low  dress- 
ing-room, and  all  Ihree  faced  Tebaldo  rather  anx- 
iously. Aliandra  Basili,  the  young  Sicilian  prima 
donna  who  had  lately  made  her  first  appearance  in 
Rome,  was  seated  before  a  dim  mirror  which  stood 
on  a  low  table  covered  with  appliances  for  theat- 
rical dressing.  Her  maid  was  arranging  a  white 
veil  on  her  head,  and  beside  her,  very  near  to  her, 


90  CORLEONE 

and  drawing  back  from  her  as  Tebaldo  entered,  sat 
Francesco. 

Tebaldo's  lips  moved  uneasily,  as  he  stood  still 
for  a  moment,  gazing  at  the  little  group,  his  hand 
on  the  door.  Then  he  closed  it  quickly  behind 
him,  and  came  forward  with  a  smile. 

"  Good  evening,"  he  said.  "  I  lost  my  way  in 
the  streets  and  am  a  little  late.  I  thought  the 
curtain  would  be  up  for  the  last  act." 

"  They  have  called  me  once,"  answered  Aliandra. 
"  I  said,  that  I  was  not  ready,  for  I  knew  you  would 
come." 

She  was  really  very  handsome  and  very  young, 
but  the  mask  of  paint  and  powder  changed  her  face 
and  expression  almost  beyond  recognition.  Even 
her  bright,  gold-brown  eyes  were  made  to  look  black 
and  exaggerated  by  the  deep  shadows  painted  with 
antimony  below  them,  and  on  the  lids.  The  young 
hand  she  held  out  to  Tebaldo  was  whitened  with 
a  chalky  mixture  to  the  tips  of  the  fingers.  She 
was  dressed  in  the  flowing  white  robe  which  Lucia 
wears  in  the  mad  scene,  and  the  flaring  gaslights 
on  each  side  of  the  mirror  made  her  face  and  wig 
look,  terribly  artificial.  Tebaldo  thought  so  as  he 
looked  at  her,  and  remembered  the  calm  simplicity 
of  Corona  Saracinesca's  mature  beauty.  But  he 
had  known  Aliandra  long,  and  his  imagination  saw 
her  own  face  through  her  paint. 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  wait  for  me,"  he  said. 


COBLEONE  91 

"I  daresay  my  brother  helped  the  time  to  pass 
pleasantly." 

"  I  have  only  just  come,"  said  Francesco,  quickly. 
"  I  took  our  mother  home  —  it  is  far." 

"  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  coming  at 
all,"  replied  Tebaldo,  coldly.  "  How  is  it  going  ?  " 
he  asked,  sitting  down  by  Aliandra.  "  Another 
ovation  ?  " 

"  No.  They  are  waiting  for  the  mad  scene,  of 
course  —  and  my  voice  is  as  heavy  as  lead  to-night. 
I  shall  not  please  anyone  —  and  it  is  the  first  time 
I  have  sung  Lucia  in  Rome.  My  nerves  are  in  a 
state  —  " 

"  You  are  not  frightened  ?    You — of  all  people  ?  " 

"  I  am  half  dead  with  fright.  I  am  white  under 
my  rouge.  I  can  feel  it." 

"  Poor  child ! "  exclaimed  Francesco,  softly,  and 
his  eyes  lightened  as  he  watched  her. 

"  Bah !  "  Tebaldo  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
smiled.  "  She  always  says  that !  " 

"And  sometimes  it  is  true,"  answered  Aliandra, 
with  a  sharp  sigh. 

A  double  rap  at  the  door  interrupted  the  con- 
versation. 

"  Signorina  Basili !  Are  you  ready  ?  "  asked  a 
gruff  voice  outside. 

"  Yes ! "  replied  the  young  girl,  rising  with  an 
effort. 

Francesco  seized  her  left  hand   and  kissed   it. 


92  CORLEONE 

Tebaldo  said  nothing,  but  folded  his  arms  and 
stood  aside.  He  saw  on  his  brother's  dark  moiis- 
tache  a  few  grains  of  the  chalky  dust  which  whit- 
ened Aliandra's  fingers. 

"  Do  not  wait  for  me  when  it  is  over,"  she  said. 
"  My  aunt  is  in  the  house,  and  will  take  me  home. 
Good  night." 

"  Goodbye,"  said  Tebaldo,  looking  intently  into 
her  face  as  he  opened  the  door. 

She  started  in  surprise,  and  perhaps  her  face 
would  have  betrayed  her  pain,  but  the  terribly 
artificial  rouge  and  powder  hid  the  change. 

"  Come  and  see  me  to-morrow,"  she  said  to  Te- 
baldo, in  a  low  voice,  when  she  was  already  in  the 
doorway. 

He  did  not  answer,  but  kept  his  eyes  steadily  on 
her  face. 

"  Signorina  Basili !  You  will  miss  your  cue !  " 
cried  the  gruff  voice  in  the  corridor. 

Aliandra  hesitated  an  instant,  glancing  out  and 
then  looking  again  at  Tebaldo. 

"  To-morrow,"  she  said  suddenly,  stepping  out 
into  the  passage.  "To-morrow,"  she  repeated,  as 
she  went  swiftly  towards  the  stage. 

She  looked  back  just  before  she  disappeared,  but 
there  was  little  light,  and  Tebaldo  could  no  longer 
see  her  eyes. 

He  stood  still  by  the  door.  Then  his  brother 
passed  him. 


CORLEONE  93 

"  I  am  going  to  hear  this  act,"  said  Francesco, 
quietly,  as  though  unaware  that  anything  unusual 
had  happened. 

Before  he  was  out  of  the  door,  he  felt  Tebaldo's 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  gripping  him  hard  and  shak- 
ing him  a  little.  He  turned  his  head,  and  his  face 
was  suddenly  pale.  Tebaldo  kept  his  hand  on  his 
brother's  shoulder  and  pushed  him  back  against 
the  wall  of  the  passage,  under  the  solitary  gas- 
light. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  here  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  How  do  you  dare  ?  " 

Francesco  was  badly  frightened,  for  he  knew 
Tebaldo's  ungovernable  temper. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  tried  to  ask.  "  I  have  often 
been  here  —  " 

"  Because  I  warned  you  not  to  come  again.  Be- 
cause I  am  in  earnest.  Because  I  will  do  you  some 
harm,  if  you  thrust  yourself  into  my  way  with 
her." 

"  I  shall  call  for  help  now,  unless  you  let  me 
go,"  answered  Francesco,  with  white  lips.  Tebaldo 
laughed  savagely. 

"  What  a  coward  you  are  ! "  he  cried,  giving  his 
brother  a  final  shake  and  then  letting  him  go. 
"  And  what  a  fool  I  am  to  care !  "  he  added,  laugh- 
ing again. 

"  Brute  !  "  exclaimed  Francesco,  adjusting  his 
collar  and  smoothing  his  coat. 


94  CORLEONE 

"  I  warned  you,"  retorted  Tebaldo,  watching 
him.  "And  now  I  have  warned  you  again,"  he 
added.  "  Tliis  is  the  second  time.  Are  there  no 
women  in  the  world  besides  Aliandra  Basili  ?  " 

"I  knew  her  first,"  objected  the  younger  man, 
beginning  to  recover  some  courage. 

"  You  knew  her  first  ?  When  she  was  a  mere 
child  in  Randazzo,  —  when  we  went  to  her  father 
about  a  lease,  we  both  heard  her  singing,  —  but 
what  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  That  was  six  years 
ago,  and  you  have  hardly  seen  her  since." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Francesco,  scorn- 
fully. 

He  had  gradually  edged  past  Tebaldo  towards 
the  open  end  of  the  passage. 

"How  do  you  know  that  I  did  not  often  see 
her  alone  before  she  went  to  Messina,  and  since 
then,  too  ?  "  He  smiled  as  he  renewed  the  ques- 
tion. 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Tebaldo,  calmly.  "You 
are  a  coward.  You  are  also  a  most  accomplished 
liar.  It  is  impossible  to  believe  a  word  you  say, 
good  or  bad.  I  should  not  believe  you  if  you  were 
dying,  and  if  you  swore  upon  the  holy  sacraments 
that  you  were  telling  me  the  truth." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Francesco,  apparently 
unmoved  by  the  insult.  "  But  you  would  probably 
believe  Aliandra,  would  you  not  ?  " 

"Why  should  I?     She  is  only  a  woman." 


COBLEONE  95 

Tebalclo  turned  angrily  as  he  spoke,  and  his 
eyelids  drooped  at  the  corners,  like  a  vulture's. 

"  You  two  are  not  made  to  be  believed,"  he  said, 
growing  more  cold.  "  I  sometimes  forget,  but  you 
soon  remind  me  of  the  fact  again.  You  said 
distinctly  this  evening  that  you  would  go  home 
with  our  mother  —  " 

"  So  I  did,"  interrupted  Francesco.  "  I  did  not 
promise  to  stay  there  — 

"I  will  not  argue  Avith  you  — 

"No.  It  would  be  useless,  as  you  are  in  the 
wrong.  I  am  going  to  hear  the  act.  Good  night." 

Francesco  walked  quickly  down  the  passage. 
He  did  not  turn  to  look  behind  him,  but  it  was 
not  until  he  was  at  the  back  of  the  stage,  groping 
his  way  amidst  lumber  and  dust  towards  the  other 
side,  that  he  felt  safe  from  any  further  violence. 

Tebaldo  had  no  intention  of  following.  He 
stood  quite  still  under  the  gaslight  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  opened  the  door  of  the  dressing- 
room  again.  He  knew  that  the  maid  was  there 
alone. 

"How  long  was  my  brother  here  before  I 
came  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

The  woman  was  setting  things  in  order,  packing 
the  tinsel-trimmed  gown  which  the  singer  had  worn 
in  the  previous  scene.  She  looked  up  nervously, 
for  she  was  afraid  of  Tebaldo. 

'•'  A   moment,    only   a  moment,"    she   answered, 


96 


CORLEONE 


not  pausing  in  her  work,  and  speaking  in  a  scared 
tone. 

Tebaldo  looked  at  her,  and  saw  that  she  was 
frightened.  He  was  not  in  the  humour  to  believe 
anyone  just  then,  and  after  a  moment's  silence, 
he  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  out. 


"  WHAT  strange  people  there  are  in  the  world," 
said  Corona  Saracinesca  to  her  husband,  on  the 
morning  after  the  dinner  at  which  the  Corleone 
family  had  been  present. 

Giovanni  was  reading  a  newspaper,  leaning  back 
in  his  own  especial  chair  in  his  wifers  morning 
room.  It  was  raining,  and  she  was  looking  out 
of  the  window.  There  are  not  many  half-uncon- 
scious actions  which  betray  so  much  of  the  general 
character  and  momentary  temper,  as  an  idle  pause 
before  closed  window  panes,  and  a  careless  glance 
down  into  the  street  or  up  at  the  sky.  The  fact 
has  not  been  noticed,  but  deserves  to  be.  Many  a 
man  or  woman,  at  an  anxious  crisis,  turns  to  the 
window,  with  the  sensation  of  being  alone  for  a 
moment,  away  from  the  complications  created  by 
the  other  person  o"r  persons  in  the  room,  free,  for 
an  instant,  to  let  the  features  relax,  the  eye  darken, 
or  the  lips  smile,  as  the  case  may  be  —  off  the  stage, 
indeed,  as  a  comedian  in  the  side  scenes.  Or  again, 
when  there  is  no  anxiety,  one  goes  from  one's  work, 
to  take  a  look  at  the  outside  world,  not  caring  to 
see  it,  but  glad  to  be  away  from  the  task -and  to 

VOL.  I.  H  97 


98  CORLEONE 

give  the  mind  a  breathing  space.  And  then,  also, 
the  expression  of  the  features  changes,  and  if  one 
stops  to  think  of  it,  one  is  aware  that  the  face  is 
momentarily  rested.  Another,  who  has  forgotten 
trouble  and  pain  for  a  while,  in  conversation  or  in 
pleasant  reading,  goes  to  the  window.  And  the 
grief,  or  the  pain,  or  the  fear,  comes  back  with  a 
rush  and  clouds  the  eyes  and  bends  the  brow,  till 
he  who  suffers  turns  with  something  like  fear  from 
the  contemplation  of  the  outer  world  and  takes 
up  his  book,  or  his  talk,  or  his  work,  or  anything 
which  can  help  him  to  forget.  With  almost  all 
people,  there  is  a  sudden  change  of  sensation  in 
first  looking  out  of  the  window.  One  drums  im- 
patiently on  the  panes,  another  bites  his  lip,  a 
third  grows  very  still  and  grave,  and  one,  per- 
haps, smiles  suddenly,  and  then  glances  back  to 
the  room,  fearing  lest  his  inward  lightness  of 
heart  may  have  betrayed  itself. 

Corona  had  nothing  to  conceal  from  Giovanni 
nor  from  herself.  She  had  realized  the  rarest  and 
highest  form  of  lasting  human  happiness,  which  is 
to  live  imparted  from  the  single  being  loved,  with 
no  screen  of  secret  to  cast  a  shadow  on  either  side. 
Such  a  life  can  have  but  few  emotions,  yet  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  very  deepest  emotion  is  always  pres- 
ent in  it,  as  the  ocean  is  not  rigid  when  it  is  quiet, 
as  the  strong  man  asleep  is  not  past  waking,  nor 
the  singer  mute  when  silent. 


COBLEONE  99 

Corona  had  been  moving  quietly  about  the  room, 
giving  life  to  it  by  her  touch,  where  mechanical 
hands  had  done  their  daily  work  of  dull  neatness. 
She  loosened  the  flowers  in  a  vase,  moved  the 
books  on  the  table,  pulled  the  long  lace  curtains 
a  little  out  from  under  the  heavy  ones,  turned  a 
chair  here  and  a  knickknack  there,  set  the  little 
calendar  on  the  writing-table,  and  moved  the  cur- 
tains again.  Then  at  last  she  paused  before  the 
window.  Her  lids  drooped  thoughtfully  and  her 
mouth  relaxed,  as  she  made  the  remark  which 
caused  Giovanni  to  look  up  from  his  paper. 

"  What  strange  people  there  are  in  the  world !  " 
she  exclaimed. 

"  It  is  fortunate  that  they  are  not  all  like  us," 
answered  Giovanni. 

«  Why  ?  " 

"  The  world  would  stop,  I  fancy.  People  would 
all  be  happy,  as  we  are,  and  would  shut  themselves 
up,  and  there  would  be  universal  peace,  the  millen- 
nium, and  a  general  cessation  of  business.  Then 
would  come  the  end  of  all  things.  Of  whom  are 
you  thinking  ?  " 

"  Of  those  people  who  came  to  dinner  last  night, 
and  of  our  boys." 

"Of  Orsino,  I  suppose.  Yes  —  I  know  —  "  He 
paused. 

"  Yes,"  said  Corona,  thoughtfully. 

Both  were  silent,  for  a  moment.     They  thought 


100  COE  LEONE 

together,  having  long  been  unaccustomed  to  think 
apart.  At  last  Giovanni  laughed  quietly. 

"Our  children  cannot  be  exactly  like  us,"  ho 
said.  "They  must  live  their  own  lives,  as  we  live 
ours.  One  cannot  make  lives  for  other  people,  you 
know." 

"Orsino  is  so  apathetic,"  said  Corona.  "He 
opens  his  eyes  for  a  moment  and  looks  at  things 
as  though  he  were  going  to  be  interested.  Then 
he  closes  them  again,  and  does  not  care  what 
happens.  He  has  no  enthusiasm  like  Ippolito. 
Nothing  interests  him,  nothing  amuses  him.  He 
is  not  happy,  and  he  is  not  unhappy.  You  could 
not  surprise  him.  I  sometimes  think  that  you 
could  not  hurt  him,  either.  He  is  young,  yet  he 
acts  like  a  man  who  has  seen  everything,  done 
everything,  heard  everything,  and  tasted  every- 
thing. He  does  not  even  fall  in  love." 

Corona  smiled  as  she  spoke  the  last  words,  but 
her  eyes  were  thoughtful.  In  her  heart,  no  thor- 
oughly feminine  woman  can  xmderstand  that  a 
young  man  may  not  be  in  love  for  a  long  time, 
and  may  yet  be  normally  sensible. 

"I  was  older  than  he  when  you  and  I  met," 
observed  Giovanni. 

"Yes  —  but  you  were  different.  Orsino  is  not 
at  all  like  you." 

"Nor  Ippolito  either." 

"There  is  more  of  you  in  him  than  you  think, 


COELEONE  101 

Giovanni,  though  he  is  so  gentle  and  quiet,  and 
fond  of  music." 

"  The  artistic  temperament,  my  dear,  —  very  little 
like  me." 

'•'There  is  a  curious  tenacity  under  all  that." 

"No  one  has  ever  thwarted  him,"  objected 
Giovanni.  "Or,  rather,  he  has  never  thwarted 
anybody.  That  is  a  better  way  of  putting  it." 

"I  believe  he  has  more  strength  of  character 
than  the  other  three  together.  Of  course,  you  will 
say  that  he  is  my  favourite." 

"No,  dear.  You  are  very  just.  But  you  are 
more  drawn  to  him." 

"Yes  —  strangely  more  —  and  for 'something  in 
him  which  no  one  sees.  It  is  his  likeness  to  you, 
I  think." 

"  Together  with  a  certain  feminility." 

Giovanni  did  not  speak  contemptuously,  but  he 
had  always  resented  Ippolito's  gentle  grace  a  little. 
He  himself  and  his  other  three  sons  had  the 
strongly  masculine  temperament  of  the  Saracinesca 
family.  He  often  thought  that  Ippolito  should 
have  been  a  girl? 

"Do  not  say  that,  Giovanni,"  answered  his  wife. 
"  He  is  not  rugged,  but  he  is  strong-hearted.  The 
artistic  temperament  has  a  certain  feminine  quality 
on  the  surface,  by  which  it  feels ;  but  the  crude 
creative  force  by  which  it  acts  is  purely  masculine." 

"  That  sounds  clever,"  laughed  Giovanni. 


102  CORLEONE 

"  AVell,  there  is  dear  old  Gausche,  whom  we  have 
known  all  our  lives.  He  is  an  instance.  You  used 
to  think  he  had  a  certain  feminility,  too." 

"So  he  had." 

"  But  he  fought  like  a  man  at  Mentana ;  and  he 
thinks  like  a  man,  and  he  certainly  paints  like  a 
man." 

"  Yes ;  that  is  true.  Only  we  never  had  any 
artists  in  the  family.  It  seems  odd  that  our  son 
should  have  such  tendencies.  None  of  the  family 
were  ever  particularly  clever  in  any  way." 

"  You  are  not  stupid,  at  all  events." 

Corona  smiled  at  her  husband.  For  all  the 
world,  she  would  not  have  had  him  at  all  different 
from  his  present  self. 

"Besides,"  she  added,  "you  need  not  think  of 
him  as  an  artist.  You  can  look  upon  him  as  a 
priest." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  answered  Giovanni,  without 
much  enthusiasm.  "We  never  were  a  priest- 
breeding  family  either.  We  have  done  better  at 
farming  than  at  praying  or  playing  the  piano. 
Ippolito  does  not  know  a  plough  from  a  harrow, 
nor  a  thoroughbred  colt  from  a  cart-horse.  For 
my  part  I  do  not  see  the  strength  you  find  in  him, 
though  I  daresay  you  are  right,  my  dear.  You 
generally  are.  At  all  events,  he  helps  the  har- 
mony of  the  family,  for  he  worships  Orsino,  and 
the  two  younger  ones  always  pair  together." 


COELEONE  103 

"I  suppose  he  will  never  be  put  into  any  posi- 
tion which  can  show  his  real  character,"  said 
Corona,  "  but  I  know  I  am  right." 

They  were  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Presently 
Giovanni  took  up  his  paper  again,  and  Corona  sat 
down  at  her  table  to  write  a  note.  The  rain  pat- 
tered against  the  window,  cheerfully,  as  it  does 
outside  a  room  in  which  two  happy  people  are 
together. 

"That  d'Oriani  girl  is  charming,"  said  Corona, 
after  writing  a  line  or  two,  but  not  looking  round. 

"  Perhaps  Orsino  will  fall  in  love  with  her," 
observed  her  husband,  his  eyes  on  the  newspaper. 

"  I  hope  not !  "  exclaimed  Corona,  turning  in  her 
chair,  and  speaking  with  far  more  energy  than  she 
had  yet  shown.  "It  is  bad  blood,  Giovanni  —  as 
bad  as  any  blood  in  Italy,  and  though  the  girl  is 
charming,  those  brothers  —  well,  you  saw  them." 

"  Bad  faces,  both  of  them.  And  rather  doubtful 
manners." 

"  Never  mind  their  manners  !  But  their  faces ! 
They  are  nephews  of  poor  Bianca  Corleone's  hus- 
band, are  they  not  ?  " 

"  Yes.  They  are  his  brother's  children.  And 
they  are  their  grandfather's  grandchildren." 

"What  did  he  do?" 

"He  was  chiefly  concerned  in  the  betrayal  of 
Gaeta  —  and  took  money  for  the  deed,  too.  They 
have  always  been  traitors.  There  was  a  Pagliuca 


104  COR  LEONE 

who  received  all  sorts  of  offices  and  honours  from 
Joaquin  Murat  and  then  advised  King  Ferdinand 
to  have  him  shot  when  he  was  caught  at  Pizzo  in 
Calabria.  There  was  a  Pagliuca  who  betrayed  his 
brother  to  save  his  own  life  in  the  last  century. 
It  is  a  promising  stock." 

"What  an  inheritance!  I  have  often  heard  of 
them,  but  I  have  never  met  any  of  them  except- 
ing Bianca's  husband,  whom  we  all  hated  for  her 
sake." 

"He  was  not  the  worst  of  them,  by  any  means. 
But  I  never  blamed  her  much,  poor  child  —  and 
Pietro  Ghisleri  knew  how  to  turn  any  woman's 
head  in  those  days." 

"Why  did  we  ask  those  people  to  dinner,  after 
all  ?  "  enquired  Corona,  thoughtfully. 

"Because  San  Giacinto  wished  it,  I  suppose. 
We  shall  probably  know  why  in  two  or  three 
years.  He  never  does  anything  without  a  reason." 

"And  he  keeps  his  reasons  to  himself." 

"It  is  a  strange  thing,"  said  Giovanni.  "That 
man  is  the  most  reticent  human  being  I  ever  knew, 
and  one  of  the  deepest.  Yet  we  are  all  sure  that 
he  is  absolutely  honest  and  honourable.  We  know 
that  lie  is  always  scheming,  and  yet  we  feel  that 
he  is  never  plotting.  There  is  a  difference." 

"Of  course  there  is  —  the  difference  between 
strategy  and  treachery.  But  I  am  sorry  that  his 
plans  should  have  involved  bringing  the  Corleone 


COELEONE  105 

family  into  cmr  house.  They  are  not  nice  people, 
excepting  the  girl." 

"My  father  remarked  that  the  elder  of  those 
brothers  was  like  an  old  engraving  he  has  of 
Caesar  Borgia." 

"  That  is  a  promising  resemblance !  Fortunately, 
the  times,  at  least,  are  changed." 

"  In  Sicily,  everything  is  possible." 

The  remark  was  characteristic  of  Giovanni,  of 
a  Roman,  and  of  modern  times.  But  there  was, 
and  is,  some  truth  in  it.  Many  things  are  possible 
to-day  in  Sicily  which  have  not  been  possible  any- 
where else  in  Europe  for  at  least  two  centuries, 
and  the  few  foreigners  who  know  the  island  well 
can  tell  tales  of  Sicilians  which  the  world  at  large 
would  hardly  accept  even  as  fiction. 


CHAPTER  VII 

DURING  the  ensuing  weeks  Orsino  saw  Vittoria 
d'Oriani  repeatedly,  at  first  by  accident,  and  after- 
wards because  he  was  attracted  by  her,  and  took 
pains  to  learn  where  she  and  her  mother  were 
going,  in  order  to  meet  her. 

It  was  spring.  Easter  had  come  very  early,  and 
as  happens  in  such  cases,  there  was  a  revival  of 
gaiety  after  Lent.  There  were  garden  parties,  a 
recent  importation  in  Rome,  there  were  great  pic- 
nics to  the  hills,  and  there  were  races  out  at  the 
Capaunelle ;  moreover,  there  were  dances  at  which 
the  windows  were  kept  open  all  night,  until  the 
daylight  began  to  steal  in  and  tell  tales  of  un- 
pleasant truth,  so  that  even  fair  women  drew  lace 
things  over  their  tired  faces  as  they  hurried  into 
their  carriages  in  the  cold  dawn,  glad  to  remember 
that  they  had  still  looked  passably  well  in  the 
candle-light. 

At  one  of  these  balls,  late  in  the  season,  Orsino 
knew  that  he  should  meet  Vittoria.  It  was  in  a 
vast  old  palace,  from  the  back  of  which  two  grace- 
ful bridges  crossed  the  street  below  to  a  garden 
beyond,  where  there  were  fountains,  and  palms, 
106 


CORLEONE  107 

and  statues,  and  walks  hedged  with  box  in.  the  old 
Italian  mariner.  There  were  no  very  magnificent 
preparations  for  the  dance,  which  was  rather  a 
small  and  intimate  affair,  but  there  was  the  mag- 
nificent luxury  of  well-proportioned  space,  which 
belonged  to  an  older  age,  there  was  the  gentle  light 
of  several  hundred  wax  candles  instead  of  the  cold 
glare  of  electricity  or  the  pestilent  flame  of  gas, 
and  all  night  long  there  was  April  moonlight  out- 
side, in  the  old  garden,  whence  the  smell  of  the 
box,  and  the  myrtle,  and  of  violets,  was  borne  in 
fitfully  through  the  open  windows  with  each  breath 
of  moving  air. 

There  was  also,  that  night,  a  general  feeling  of 
being  at  home  and  in  a  measure  free  from  the 
oppression  of  social  tyranny,  and  from  the  disturb- 
ing presence  of  the  rich  social  recruit,  who  was 
sown  in  wealth,  so  'to  say,  in  the  middle  of  the 
century,  and  who  is  now  plentifully  reaped  in  vul- 
garity. 

"  It  is  more  like  the  old  times  than  anything 
I  remember  for  years,"  said  Corona  to  Gianforte 
Campodonico,  as  they  walked  slowly  through  the 
rooms  together. 

"  It  must  be  the  wax  candles  and  the  smell  of  the 
flowers  from  the  garden,"  he  answered,  not  exactly 
comprehending,  for  he  was  not  a  sensitive  man,  and 
was,  moreover,  considerably  younger  than  Corona. 

But  Corona  was  silent,  and  wished  that  she  were 


108  CORLEONE 

walking  with  her  husband,  or  sitting  alone  with 
him  in  some  quiet  corner,  for  something  in  the  air 
reminded  her  of  a  ball  in  the  Frangipani  palace, 
many  years  ago,  when  Giovanni  had  spoken  to  her 
in  a  conservatory,  ftnd  many  things  had  happened 
in  consequence.  The  wax  candles  and  the  smell 
of  open-air  flowers,  and  the  glimpses  of  moonlight 
through  vast  windows  may  have  had  something  to 
do  with  it;  but  surely  there  are  times  and  hours, 
when  love  is  in  the  air,  when  every  sound  is  tuneful, 
and  all  silence  is  softly  alive,  when  young  voices 
seek  each  the  other's  tone  caressingly,  and  the  steal- 
ing hand  steals  nearer  to  the  hand  that  waits. 

There  was  no  one  to  prevent  Orsino  Saracinesca 
from  persuading  Vittoria  to  go  and  sit  down  in  one 
of  the  less  frequented  rooms,  if  he  could  do  so. 
Her  mother  would  be  delighted,  her  brothers  were 
not  at  the  ball,  and  Orsino  was  responsible  to  no 
one  for  his  actions.  She  had  learned  many  things 
since  she  had  come  to  Rome,  but  she  did  not 
understand  more  than  half  of  them,  and  what  she 
understood  least  of  all  was  the  absolute  power 
which  Orsino  exerted  over  her  when  he  was 
present.  He  haunted  her  thoughts  at  other  times, 
too,  and  she  had  acquired  a  sort  of  conviction  that 
she  could  not  escape  from  him,  which  was  greatly 
strengthened  by  the  fact  that  she  did  not  wish  to 
be  free. 

On  his  part,  his  mind  was  less  easy,  for  he  was 


COIiLEONE  109 

well  aware  that  he  was  making  love  to  the  girl 
with  her  mother's  consent,  whereas  he  was  not  by 
any  means  inclined  to  think  that  he  wished  to 
marry  her.  Such  a  position  might  not  seem 
strange  to  a  youth  of  Anglo-Saxon  traditions;  for 
there  is  a  sort  of  tacit  understanding  among  the 
English-speaking  races  to  the  effect  that  young 
people  are  never  to  count  on  each  other  till  each 
has  got  the  other  up  the  steps  of  the  altar,  that 
there  is  nothing  disgraceful  in  breaking  an  engage- 
ment, and  that  love-making  at  large,  without  any 
intention  of  marriage,  is  a  harmless  pastime 
especially  designed  for  the  very  young.  The 
Italian  view  is  very  different,  however,  and  Orsino 
was  well  aware  that  unless  he  meant  to  make  Vit- 
toria  d'Oriani  his  wife,  he  was  doing  wrong  in  his 
own  eyes,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  in  doing 
his  best  to  be  often  with  her. 

One  result  of  his  conduct  was  that  he  frightened 
away  other  men.  They  took  it  for  granted  that 
he  wished  to  marry  her,  dowerless  as  she  was,  and 
they  kept  out  of  his  way.  The  girl  was  not  neg- 
lected, however.  San  Giacinto  had  his  own  rea- 
sons for  wishing  to  be  on  good  terms  with  her 
brothers,  and  he  made  his  wife  introduce  partners 
to  Vittoria  at  dances,  and  send  men  to  talk  to  her 
at  parties.  But  as  soon  as  Orsino  came  upon  the 
scene,  Vittoria's  companion  disappeared,  whoever 
he  happened  to  be  at  the  time. 


110  CORLEONE 

The  Italian,  even  when  very  young,  has  a  good 
deal  of  social  philosophy  Avhen  he  is  not  under  the 
influence  of  an  emotion  from  which  he  cannot 
escape.  He  will  avoid  falling  in  love  with  the 
wrong  person,  if  he  can. 

"  For  what  ?  "  he  asks.  "  In  order  to  be  un- 
happy ?  Why?" 

And  he  systematically  keeps  out  of  the  way  of 
temptation,  well  knowing  his  own  weakness  in 
love  matters. 

But  Orsino  was  attracted  by  the  girl  and  yielded 
to  the  attraction,  though  his  manner  of  yielding 
was  a  domination  over  her  whenever  they  met. 
His  only  actual  experience  of  real  love  had  been 
in  his  affair  with  the  Countess  del  Ferice,  before 
her  second  marriage.  She  was  a  mature  woman 
of  strong  character  and  devoted  nature,  who  had 
resisted  him  and  had  sacrificed  herself  for  him, 
not  to  him.  He  had  been  accustomed  to  find  that 
resistance  in  her.  But  Vittoria  offered  none  at  all, 
a  fact  which  gave  his  rather  despotic  nature  a 
sudden  development,  while  the  absence  of  oppo- 
sition made  him  look  upon  his  disinclination  to 
decide  the  question  of  marriage  as  something  he 
ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of.  At  the  same  time, 
there  was  the  fact  that  he  had  grown  somewhat 
cynical  and  cold  of  late  years,  and  if  not  positively 
selfish,  at  least  negatively  careless  of  others,  when 
anything  pleased  him,  which  was  not  often.  It 


CORLEONE  111 

is  bad  to  have  strength  and  not  to  use  it,  to  possess 
power  and  not  to  exert  it,  to  know  that  one  is  a 
personage  without  caring  much  what  sort  of  person 
one  may  be.  That  had  been  Orsino's  position  for 
years,  and  it  had  not  improved  his  character. 

On  this  particular  evening  he  was  conscious  of 
something  much  more  like  emotion  than  he  had 
felt  for  a  long  time.  San  Giacinto  had  lain  in 
wait  for  him  near  the  door,  and  had  told  him  that 
matters  were  settled  at  last  and  that  they  were  to 
leave  Rome  within  the  week  to  take  possession  of 
the  Corleone  lands.  The  deeds  had  been  signed 
and  the  money  had  been  paid.  There  were  no 
further  formalities,  and  it  was  time  to  go  to  work. 
Orsino  nodded,  said  he  was  ready,  and  went  off  to 
find  Vittoria  in  the  ballroom.  But  there  was  a 
little  more  colour  than  usual  under  his  dark  skin, 
and  his  eyes  were  restless  and  hungry. 

He  was  passing  his  mother  without  seeing  her, 
when  she  touched  him  on  the  sleeve,  and  dropped 
Campodonico's  arm.  He  started  a  little  impa- 
tiently, and  then  stood  still,  waiting  for  her  to 
speak. 

"  Has  anything*  happened  ?  "  she  asked  rather 
anxiously. 

"No,  mother,  nothing  —  that  is—  He  hesi- 
tated, glancing  at  Campodonico.  "  I  am  going  to 
Sicily  with  San  Giacinto,"  he  added  in  a  low  voice. 

Corona  could  not  have  explained  what  she  felt 


112  COHLEONE 

just  then,  but  she  might  have  described  it  as  a 
disagreeable  chilliness  creeping  over  her  strong 
frame  from  head  to  foot.  An  hour  later  she  re- 
membered it,  and  the  next  day,  and  for  many  days 
afterwards,  and  she  tried  to  account  for  it  by  tell- 
ing herself  that  the  journey  was  to  make  a  great 
change  in  her  son's  life,  or  by  arguing  that  she  had 
half  unconsciously  supposed  him  about  to  engage 
himself  to  Vittoria.  But  neither  explanation  was 
at  all  satisfactory.  She  was  not  imaginative  to 
that  extent,  as  she  well  knew,  and  she  at  last  made 
up  her  mind  that  it  was  an  idle  coincidence  of  the 
kind  which  some  people  call  a  warning,  and  re- 
member afterwards  when  anything  especial  hap- 
pens, though  if  nothing  particular  follows,  they 
forget  it  altogether. 

"  Why  are  you  going  ?  Has  it  anything  to  do 
with  the  Corleone  ?  "  she  asked,  and  she  was  sur- 
prised at  the  unsteadiness  of  her  own  voice. 

"  Yes.     I  will  tell  you  some  other  time." 

«  Will  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly." 

She  looked  into  his  eyes  a  moment,  and  then 
took  Campodonico's  arm  again.  Orsino  moved  on 
quickly  and  disappeared  in  the  ballroom  they  had 
left,  wondering  inwardly  at  his  mother's  manner 
as  much  as  she  was  then  wondering  herself,  and 
attributing  it  to  her  anxiety  about  his  position  with, 
regard  to  Vittoria.  Thinking  of  that,  he  stopped 


COR  LEONE  113 

short  in  his  walk  just  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
young  girl  in  the  distance,  standing  beside  her 
mother.  A  man  was  before  her,  evidently  just 
asking  her  to  dance.  Orsino  watched  them  while 
he  tried  to  get  hold  of  himself  and  decide  what  he 
ought  to  do. 

Vittoria  came  forward  and  swept  out  with  her 
partner  into  the  middle  of  the  room.  Orsino  slipped 
back  a  little  behind  a  group  of  people,  so  that  she 
should  not  easily  see  him,  but  he  watched  her  face 
keenly.  Her  eyes  were  restless,  and  she  was  evi- 
dently looking  for  him,  and  not  thinking  of  her 
partner  at  all.  As  they  came  round  to  his  side, 
Orsino  felt  the  blood  rise  in  his  throat,  and  felt  that 
his  face  was  warm ;  and  then,  as  they  swung  off  to 
the  other  side  of  the  big  ballroom,  he  grew  cool 
again,  and  asked  himself  what  he  should  do,  re- 
peating the  question  rather  helplessly.  She  came 
round  once  more,  and  just  as  he  felt  the  same 
heat  of  the  blood  again,  he  saw  that  her  eyes  had 
caught  his.  In  a  flash  her  expression  changed, 
and  the  colour  blushed  in  her  face.  A  moment 
later  she  stopped,  and  remained  standing  with  her 
partner  so  that  Orsino  could  see  the  back  of  her 
head.  She  half  turned  towards  him  two  or  three 
times,  instinctively ;  but  she  would  not  turn  quite 
round  so  as  to  look  at  him.  She  knew  that  she 
must  finish  the  dance  before  he  could  come  to  her. 

But  he,  deeply  stirred,  and,  at  the    same   time, 

VOL.    I. I 


114  COR  LEONE 

profoundly  discontented  with  himself,  suddenly 
left  the  room  and  went  on  till  he  stood  all  alone, 
out  on  one  of  the  bridges  which  crossed  the  street 
to  the  garden  at  the  back  of  the  palace.  The 
bridge  was  in  the  shadow,  but  the  white  moonlight 
fell  full  upon  the  fountain  and  the  walks  beyond; 
and  moonlight  has  an  extraordinary  effect  on  people 
who  do  not  habitually  live  in  camps,  or  out  of  doors, 
at  night.  The  sun  shows  us  what  is,  but  the  moon 
makes  us  see  what  might  be. 

Orsino  leaned  against  the  stone  parapet  in  the 
shadow,  and  made  one  of  those  attempts  at  self- 
examination  which  every  honourable  man  has  made 
at  least  once  in  his  life,  and  which,  with  nine  men 
out  of  ten,  lead  to  no  result,  because  at  such  times 
the  mind  is  hi  no  state  to  examine  anything,  least 
of  all  itself.  Indeed,  no  healthy-minded  man  re- 
sorts to  that  sort  of  introspection  unless  he  is  in 
a  most  complicated  situation,  since  such  a  man  is 
normally  always  perfectly  conscious  of  what  is 
honourable  and  right,  without  any  self-analysis, 
or  picking  to  pieces  of  his  own  conscience. 

But  Orsino  Saracinesca  was  in  great  difficulty. 
He  did  not  question  the  fact  that  he  was  very 
much  in  love  with  Vittoria,  and  that  this  love 
for  a  young  girl  was  something  which  he  had 
never  felt  before.  That  was  plain  enough,  by 
this  time.  The  real  question  was,  whether  he 
should  marry  her,  or  whether  he  should  go  away 


COELEONE  115 

to  Sicily  with  San  Giacinto  and  try  to  avoid  her 
in  future  until  he  should  have  more  or  less  for- 
gotten her. 

He  was  old  enough  and  sensible  enough  to  fore- 
see the  probable  consequences  of  marrying  into 
such  a  family,  and  they  were  such  as  to  check 
him  at  the  outset.  He  knew  all  about  the  Pa- 
gliuca  people,  as  his  father  did,  and  the  phrase 
'the  worst  blood  in  Italy'  was  familiar  to  his 
thoughts.  Vittoria's  mother  was,  indeed,  a  harm- 
less soul,  provincial  and  of  unusual  manners,  but 
not  vulgar  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  word. 
Vittoria's  father  was  said  to  have  been  a  very 
good  kind  of  man,  who  had  been  outrageously 
treated  by  his  elder  brother.  But  the  strain  was 
bad.  There  were  hideous  stories  of  treachery, 
such  as  Giovanni  had  quoted  to  his  wife,  which 
were  alone  enough  to  make  Orsino  hesitate.  And 
then,  there  were  Vittoria's  brothers,  for  whom  he 
felt  the  strongest  repulsion  and  distrust.  In  many 
ways  it  Avould  have  been  wiser  for  him  to  marry 
a  girl  of  the  people,  a  child  of  Trastevere,  rather 
than  Vittoria  d'Oriaui. 

He  did  not  believe  that  any  of  the  taint  was 
on  herself,  that  in  her  character  there  was  the 
smallest  shade  of  deceit  or  unfaithfulness.  He 
found  it  hard  to  believe  that  she  was  really  a 
Corleone  at  all.  His  arguments  began  from  a 
premiss  which  assumed  her  practically  perfect. 


116  COELEONE 

Had  he  been  alone  in  the  world,  he  would  not 
have  hesitated  long,  for  he  could  have  married 
her  and  taken  her  away  for  ever  —  he  Avas  enough 
in  love  for  that. 

But  such  a  marriage  meant  that  he  should  bring 
her  brothers  intimately  into  his  father's  house ; 
that  he  and  his  own  family  must  accept  Tebaldo 
and  Francesco  Pagliuca,  and  possibly  the  third 
brother,  whom  he  did  not  know,  as  near  relations, 
to  be  called,  by  himself  at  least,  '  thee '  and  '  thou,' 
and  by  their  baptismal  names.  Lastly,  it  meant 
that  Vittoria's  mother  and  his  own  should  come 
into  close  terms  of  intimacy,  for  Maria  Carolina 
would  make  the  most  of  the  connexion  with  the 
Saracinesca.  That  thought  was  the  most  repug- 
nant of  all  to  the  young  man,  who  looked  upon 
his  mother  as  a  being  apart  from  the  ordinary 
world  and  entitled  to  a  sort  of  veneration.  Maria 
Carolina  would  not  venerate  anybody,  he  thought. 

On  the  other  side,  there  was  his  honour.  He 
did  not  care  what  the  young  men  might  think, 
but  he  had  certainly  led  the  girl  herself  to  believe 
that  he  meant  to  marry  her.  And  he  was  in  love. 
Compared  with  giving  up  Vittoria,  and  with  doing 
something  which  seemed  dishonourable,  the  ac- 
cunmlated  wickedness  of  generations  of  the  Cor- 
leone  shrank  into  insignificance.  There  was  a  sort 
of  shock  in  his  mind,  as  he  brought  up  this  side 
of  the  question. 


CORLEONE  117 

Had  there  been  any  difficulty  to  be  overcome  in 
winning  Vittoria's  own  consent,  it  would  have  been 
easier  to  decide.  But  he  knew  that  he  had  but  a 
word  to  say,  and  his  future  would  be  sealed  irre- 
vocably in  a  promise  which  he  never  would  break. 
And  in  a  day  or  two  he  was  to  leave  Rome  for  a 
long  time.  It  was  clear  that  he  ought  to  decide 
at  once,  this  very  night. 

His  nature  rejected  the  idea  of  taking  advice, 
and,  generally,  of  confiding  in  anyone.  Otherwise, 
he  might  have  laid  the  matter  before  his  mother, 
in  the  certainty  that  her  counsel  would  be  good 
and  honourable.  Or  he  might  have  told  his  favour- 
ite brother  the  whole  story,  and  Ippolito  would 
assuredly  have  told  him  what  was  right.  But  Or- 
sino  was  not  of  those  who  get  help  from  the  judg- 
ment or  the  conscience  of  another. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  he  stayed  a  long  time  on 
the  bridge,  thinking  of  all  these  things,  for  the 
necessity  of  finally  weighing  them  had  come  upon 
him  suddenly,  since  San  Giacinto  had  given  him 
warning  to  get  ready  for  the  journey.  But  pres- 
ently he  was  aware  that  the  distant  music  had 
changed,  that  the  waltz  during  which  he  had 
watched  Vittoria  was  over,  and  that  a  square 
dance  had  begun.  He  smiled  rather  grimly  to  him- 
self as  he  reflected  that  he  might  stand  there  till 
morning,  without  getting  any  nearer  to  a  conclu- 
sion. He  turned  his  back  on  the  moonlight  impa- 


118  COH  LEONE 

tiently  and.  went  back  into  the  palace.  In  the 
distance,  through  an  open  door,  he  saw  faces 
familiar  to  him  all  his  life,  moving  to  and  fro 
rapidly  in  a  quadrille.  He  watched  them  as  he 
walked  straight  on  towards  the  ballroom,  through 
the  rather  dimly  lighted  chamber  with  which  the 
bridge  communicated. 

He  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  Yittoria  d'Ori- 
ani's  voice,  close  beside  him,  calling  him  softly  but 
rather  anxiously. 

"Don  Orsino!   Don  Orsino!" 

She  was  all  alone,  pale,  and  standing  half  hidden 
by  the  heavy  curtain  on  one  side  of  the  door  open- 
ing to  the  ballroom.  Orsino  stood  still  a  moment, 
in  great  surprise  at  seeing  her  thus  left  to  her- 
self in  an  empty  room.  Then  he  went  close  to 
her,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  low  voice, 
for  several  men  were  standing  about  on  the  other 
side  of  the  open  door,  watching  the  dance. 

"Nothing  —  nothing,"  she  repeated  nervously, 
as  he  drew  her  aside. 

"  Who  left  you  here  alone  ?  "  asked  Orsino,  in 
displeasure  at  some  unknown  person. 

"I  —  I  came  here  —  "  she  faltered.  " I  slipped 
out  —  it  was  hot,  in  there." 

Orsino  laughed  softly. 

"You  must  not  get  isolated  in  this  way,"  he 
said.  "It  is  not  done  here,  you  know.  People 


CORLEONE  119 

would  think  it  strange.  You  are  always  supposed 
to  be  with  someone  —  your  partner,  or  your  mother. 
But  I  am  glad,  since  I  have  found  you." 

"  Yes,  I  have  found  you,"  she  said  softly,  repeat- 
ing his  words.  "  I  mean  —  "  she  corrected  herself 
hurriedly  —  "I  mean  you  have  found  me." 

Orsino  looked  down  to  her  averted  face,  and  in 
the  dim  light  he  saw  the  blush  at  her  mistake  — 
too  great  a  mistake  in  speech  not  to  have  come 
from  a  strong  impulse  within.  Yet  he  could  hardly 
believe  that  she  had  seen  him  go  out  that  way 
alone,  and  had  followed  in  the  hope  of  finding  him. 

They  sat  down  together,  not  far  from  the  door 
opening  upon  the  bridge.  The  colour  had  faded 
again  from  Vittoria's  face,  and  she  was  pale.  Dur- 
ing some  moments  neither  spoke,  and  the  music  of 
the  quadrille  irritated  Orsino  as  he  listened  to  it. 
Seeing  that  he  was  silent,  Vittoria  looked  up  side- 
ways and  met  his  eyes. 

"  It  was  really  very  warm  in  the  ballroom,"  she 
said,  to  say  something. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  absently,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
hers.  "Yes  —  I  daresay  it  was." 

Again  there  was  a  pause. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  asked  Vittoria  at  last, 
and  her  tone  sank  with  each  word. 

"I  am  going  away,"  said  Orsino,  slowly,  with 
fixed  eyes. 

She  did  not  start  nor  show  any  surprise,  but  the 


120  COBLEOXE 

colour  began  to  leave  her  lips.  The  irritating  qua- 
drille went  pounding  on  in  the  distance,  through  the 
hackneyed  turns  of  the  familiar  figures,  accompa- 
nied by  the  sound  of  many  voices  talking  and  of 
broken  laughter  now  and  then. 

•"  You  knew  it  ?  "  asked  Orsino.     "  How?  " 

•"Xo  one  told  me;  but  I  knew  it — I  guessed  it" 

Orsino  looked  away,  aaad  then  turned  -to  her 
again,  his  glance  drawn  back  to  her  by  something 
he  could  not.  resist. 

u  Vittoria,"  ne  began  in  a  rery  low  tone. 

He  had  never  called  her  by  that  name  before. 
The  quadrille  was  very  noisy,  and  she  did  not 
understand.  She  leaned  forward  anxiously  towards 
:..:_.  '..-:.-':.--  '•:•• 

"What  did  you  say?  I  did  not  hear.  The 
music  makes  such  a  noise!" 

The  man  was  more  than  ever  irritated  at  the 
sound;  and  as  she  bent  over  to  him,  he  could 
almost  feel  her  breath  on  his  cheek.  The  blood 
lose  in  him,  and  be  sprang  to  his  feet  impatiently. 

"Come ! "  he  said.  "Come  outside!  We  cannot 
even  bear  each  other  here." 

Yittoria  rose,  too,  without  a  word,  and  went  with 
him,  walking  close  beside  him,  and  glancing  at  his 
face.  She  was  excessively  pale  now;  and  all  the 
gplden  light  seemed  to  have  faded  at  once,  even 
from  her  hair  and  eyes,  till  she  looked  delicate  and 
almost  fragile  beside  the  big  dark  man. 


CQRLEQXE 
"Out  of  dons?1"   she  asked   timidl,  at  the 


-  Yes  —  it  is  veiy  warm,"  answered.  Grsino,  in  a 
Tciee  tkat  was  a  little  boarse. 

:  -      :.  ::..-•      :•;    _••-       .  :'  -  -:.        ~      ~±:  :1- 

.  "•-.  --;--  -  1-  --  _-  '  ..  '  ---"-:  .  . 
:  .  ".  '..-:•-  ..:.  .  .'.  .  -  -  .  ...  :  :/  ::..  •_:.:..:  :: 
attogediec. 

Yitt<Mia  cootd  not  have  spoken  just;  then,  Cor  she 
was  franUmg  from  head  to  Coot.    The  air  was  fall 
:-•••,_•       -  -     ;.:__•_      ::      -----  :       _• 

:  :  •  ,  --:!.'•::.'  '.  .-:.-•-  \  :  - 
moonlight.  When  she  looked  up,  she  could  see 
Ocsmo's  eyes,  bright  m  the  shadow.  She  turned 
away,  and  came  back  to  diem  move  than  once; 
them  their  glances  did  not  part  any  more,  and  his 
face  came  nearer  to  hers. 

-We  love  each  other,"  he  said;  and  his  voice 
was  warm  and  alive  again, 

She  felt  that  she  saw  his  soul  in  his  face,,  bnt 
she  ooold  not  speak.  Her  eyes  looking  up  to  his, 
^_-  -'  ';  •  -  ;_•  :  '.:::'.•  •  ..  '.  -.—.  •  '  \  ..-.'•: 
lips  parted  like  an  opening  flower,  and  Jainttf 
smiled  at  the  AEcciucAs  of  an  unspoken  word. 

He  bent  nearer  still,  and  she  did  not  draw  back. 
His  blood  was  hot  and  fpmghig  in  his  ears.  Then, 
all  at  outre,  something  in  her  appealed  to  him,  her 
young  delicacy.,  her  dawn-like  purity,  her  exquisite 
fresh  maidenhood.  It  seamed  a.  crime  to  touch  her 


122  COR  LEONE 

lips  as  though  she  had  been  a  mature  woman. 
He  dropped  her  hand,  and  his  long  arms  brought 
her  tenderly  and  softly  up  to  his  breast;  and  as 
her  head  fell  back,  and  her  lids  drooped,  he  kissed 
her  eyes  with  infinite  gentleness,  first  the  one  and 
then  the  othei-,  again  and  again,  till  she  smiled  in 
the  dark,  and  hid  her  face  against  his  coat,  and 
he  found  only  her  silky  hair  to  kiss  again. 

"I  love  you  —  say  it,  too/1  he  whispered  in  her 
ear. 

"  Ah,  yes !  so  much,  so  dearly ! "  came  her  low 
answer. 

Then  he  took  her  hand  again,  and  brought  it  up 
to  his  lips  close  to  her  face ;  and  his  lips  pressed 
the  small  fingers  passionately,  almost  roughly,  very 
longingly. 

"Come,"  he  said.  "We  must  be  alone  —  come 
into  the  garden." 

He  led  her  across  the  bridge,  and  suddenly  they 
were  in  the  clear  moonlight;  but  he  went  on 
quickly,  lest  they  should  be  noticed  through  the 
open  door  from  within.  The  air  was  warm  and 
still  and  dry,  as  it  often  is  in  spring  after  the 
evening  chill  has  passed. 

"We  could  not  go  back  into  the  ballroom, 
could  we  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  drew  her  away  along 
a  gravel  walk  between  high  box  hedges. 

"  No.  How  could  we  —  now  ?  "  Her  hand  tight- 
ened a  little  on  his  arm. 


CORLEONE  123 

They  stopped  before  a  statue  at  the  end  of  the 
walk,  full  in  the  light,  a  statue  that  had  perhaps 
been  a  Daphne,  injured  ages  ago,  and  stone-grey 
where  it  was  not  very  white,  with  flying  draperies 
broken  off  short  in  the  folds,  and  a  small,  fright- 
ened face  that  seemed  between  laughing  and  cry- 
ing. One  fingerless  hand  pointed  at  the  moon. 

Orsino  leaned  back  against  the  pedestal,  and 
lovingly  held  Vittoria  before  him,  and  looked  at 
her,  and  she  smiled,  her  lips  parting  again,  and 
just  glistening  darkly  in  the  light  as  a  dewy  rose 
does  in  moonlight.  The  music  was  very  far  away 
now,  but  the  plashing  of  the  fountain  was  near. 

"  I  love  you ! "  said  Orsino  once  more,  as  though 
no  other  words  would  do. 

A  deep  sigh  of  happiness  said  more  than  the 
words  could,  and  the  stillness  that  followed  meant 
most  of  all,  while  Vittoria  gently  took  his  two 
hands  and  nestled  closer  to  him,  fearlessly,  like 
a  child  or  a  young  animal. 

"  But  you  will  not  go  away  —  now  ?  "  she  asked 
pleadingly. 

Orsino's  face  changed  a  little,  as  he  remembered 
the  rest  of  his  life,  and  all  he  had  undertaken  to  do. 
He  had  dreamily  hoped  that  he  might  forget  it. 

"  We  will  not  talk  of  that,"  he  answered. 

"  How  can  I  help  it,  if  it  is  true  ?  You  will  not 
go  —  say  you  will  not  go ! " 

"I  have  promised.     But  there  is  time  —  or,  at 


124  CORLEONE 

least,  I  shall  soon  come  back.  It  is  not  so  far 
to  Sicily  —  " 

"Sicily?  You  are  going  to  Sicily?"  She 
seemed  surprised. 

"I  thought  you  knew  where  I  was  going  — " 
he  began. 

"  No  —  I  guessed ;  I  was  not  sure.  Tell  me  ! 
Why  must  you  go  ?  " 

"I  must  go  because  I  have  promised.  San 
Giacinto  would  think  it  very  strange  if  I  changed 
my  mind." 

"It  is  stranger  that  you  should  go  —  and  with 
him  !  Yes  —  I  see  —  you  are  going  to  take  pos- 
session of  our  old  place  — 

Her  voice  suddenly  expressed  the  utmost  anxi- 
ety, as  she  sprang  from  one  conclusion  to  another 
without  a  mistake.  She  pressed  his  hands  tightly, 
and  her  face  grew  pale  again  with  fear  for  him. 

"  Oil  please,  please,  stay  here !  "  she  cried.  "  If 
it  were  anywhere  else  —  if  it  were  to  do  anything 
else  —  " 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked,  in  surprise.  "  I  thought 
you  did  not  care  much  for  the  old  place.  If  I 
had  known  that  it  would  hurt  you  — " 

"Me?  No!  It  is  not  that  —  it  is  for  you! 
They  will  kill  you.  Oh,  do  not  go !  Do  not  go  !  " 
She  spoke  in  the  greatest  distress. 

Orsino  was  suddenly  inclined  to  laugh,  but  he 
saw  how  much  in  earnest  she  was. 


COELEONE  125 

''Who  will  kill  me?"  he  asked,  as  though 
humouring  her.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Vittoria  was  more  than  in  earnest;  she  was 
almost  in  terror  for  him.  Her  small  hands  clung 
to  his  arm  nervously,  catching  him  and  then  loos- 
ing their  hold.  But  she  said  nothing,  though  she 
seemed  to  be  hesitating  in  some  sort  of  struggle. 
Though  she  loved  him  with  all'  the  whole-hearted 
impulses  of  her  nature,  it  was  not  easy  to  tell 
him  what  she  meant.  The  Sicilian  blood  revolted 
at  the  thought  of  betraying  her  wild  brother,  who 
had  joined  the  outlaws,  and  would  be  in  waiting 
for  Orsino  and  his  cousin  when  they  should  try 
to  take  possession  of  the  lands. 

"  You  must  not  go !  "  she  cried,  suddenly  throw- 
ing her  arms  round  his  neck  as  though  she  could 
keep  him  by  force.  "  You  shall  not  go  —  oh,  no, 
no,  no !  " 

"Vittoria  —  you  have  got  some  mad  idea  in 
your  head  —  it  is  absurd  —  who  should  try  to  kill 
me  ?  Why  ?  I  have  no  enemies.  As  for  the 
brigands,  everyone  laughs  at  that  sort  of  thing 
nowadays.  They  belong  to  the  comic  opera !  " 
He  let  himself  laugh  a  little  at  last,  for  the  idea 
really  amused  him. 

But  Vittoria  straightened  herself  beside  him  and 
grew  calmer,  for  she  was  sensible  and  saw  that  he 
thought  her  foolishly  afraid. 

"  In  Rome  the  outlaAvs  belong  to  the  comic  opera 


126  CORLEONE 

—  yes,"  she  answered  gravely.  "  But  in  Sicily 
they  are  a  reality.  I  am  a  Sicilian,  and  I  know. 
People  are  killed  by  them  almost  every  day,  and 
the  malia  protects  them.  They  are  better  armed 
than  the  soldiers,  for  they  carry  Winchester 
rifles  —  " 

"  What  do  you  know  about  Winchester  rifles  ?  " 
asked  Orsino,  smiling. 

"My  brothers  have  them,"  she  said  quietly. 
"  And  the  outlaws  almost  all  have  them." 

"  I  daresay.  But  why  should  they  wish  to  kill 
me  ?  They  do  not  know  me." 

Vittoria  was  silent  a  moment,  making  up  her 
mind  what  she  should  tell  him.  She  was  not  posi- 
tively sure  of  anything,  but  she  had  heard  Fran- 
cesco say  lately  that  Camaldoli  was  a  place  easier 
to  buy  than  to  hold  while  Ferdinando  was  alive, 
and  she  knew  what  that  meant,  when  coupled  with 
the  occasional  comments  upon  Ferdinando's  mode 
of  life,  which  escaped  in  Francesco's  incautious 
conversation  at  home.  To  a  Sicilian,  the  meaning 
of  the  whole  situation  was  not  hard  to  guess.  At 
the  same  time  Vittoria  was  both  desperately  anx- 
ious for  Orsino  and  afraid  that  he  might  laugh  at 
her  fears,  as  he  had  done  already. 

"  This  is  it,"  she  said  at  last  in  a  low  and  earnest 
voice.  "  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  you  or  your 
cousin,  personally,  nor  with  your  taking  possession 
of  Camaldoli,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  But  it 


COELEONE  127 

is  a  wild  and  desolate  place,  and  all  through  this 
year  a  large  band  of  outlaws  have  been  in  the 
forests  ou  the  other  side  of  the  valley.  They 
would  never  have  hurt  iny_brothers,  who  are  Sicil- 
ians and  poor,  and  who  did  not  trouble  them 
either.  But  you  and  your  cousin  are  great  people, 
and  rich,  and  not  Sicilians,  and  the  mafia  Avill 
be  against  you,  and  will  support  the  brigands  if 
they  prevent  you  from  taking  possession  of  Ca- 
maldoli.  You  would  be  opposed  to  the  mafia ;  you 
would  bring  soldiers  there  to  fight  the  outlaws. 
Therefore  they  will  kill  you.  It  is  certain.  No 
one  ever  escapes  them.  Do  you  understand  ? 
Now  you  will  not  go,  of  course,  since  I  have  ex- 
plained it  all." 

Orsino  was  somewhat  puzzled,  though  it  all 
seemed  so  clear  to  her. 

"This  mafia  — what  is  it?"  he  asked.  "  We 
hear  it  spoken  of,  but  we  do  not  any  of  us  really 
know  who  is  the  head  of  it,  nor  what  it  can  do." 

"  It  has  no  head,"  answered  the  young  girl. 
"  Perhaps  it  is  hard  to  explain,  because  you  are 
not  a  Sicilian.  The  mafia  is  not  a  band,  nor  any- 
thing of  that  sort.  It  is  the  resistance  which  the 
whole  Sicilian  people  opposes  to  all  kinds  of  gov- 
ernment and  authority.  It  is,  how  shall  I  say  ? 
A  sentiment,  a  feeling,  a  sort  of  wild  love  of 
our  country,  that  is  a  secret,  and  will  do  any- 
thing. With  us,  everybody  knows  what  it  is,  and 


128  CORLEONE 

evil  comes  to  everyone  who  opposes  it  —  generally 
death." 

"  We  are  not  much  afraid  of  it,  since  we  have  the 
law  on  our  side,"  said  Orsino,  rather  incredulously. 

"  You  are  not  afraid  because  you  do  not  under- 
stand," answered  Vittoria,  her  voice  beginning  to 
express  her  anxiety  again.  "  If  you  knew  what  it 
is,  as  we  know,  you  would  be  very  much  afraid." 

She  spoke  so  simply  and  naturally  that  it  did 
not  occur  to  Orsino  to  be  offended  at  the  slight 
upon  his  courage. 

"We  shall  take  an  escort  of  soldiers,  to  please 
you,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  drawing  her  to  him 
again,  as  though  the  discussion  were  over. 

But  her  terror  for  him  broke  out  again.  She 
had  not  told  him  all  she  knew,  still  less  all  she 
suspected. 

"  But  I  am  in  earnest ! "  she  cried,  holding  her- 
self back  from  him  so  that  he  could  see  her  eyes. 
"  It  is  true  earnest,  deadly  earnest.  They  mean  to 
kill  you  —  in  the  end,  they  will !  Oh,  tell  me  that 
you  will  not  go ! " 

"San  Giacinto  has  bought  the  place  — 

"Let  him  go,  and  be  killed,  then,  and  perhaps 
they  will  be  satisfied!  What  do  I  care  for  any- 
one but  you  ?  Is  it  nothing,  that  I  love  you  so  ? 
That  we  have  told  each  other  ?  That  you  say  you 
love  me?  Is  it  all  nothing  but  words,  mere  words, 
empty  words  ?  " 


COBLEONE  129 

"No,  it  is  my  whole  life,  dear — " 

"Then  your  life  is  mine,  and  you  have  no  right 
to  throw  it  away,  just  to  please  your  cousin.  Let 
him.  get  a  regiment  of  soldiers  sent  there  by  the 
government  to  live  in  Santa  Vittoria.  Then  after 
three  or  four  years  the  brigands  will  be  all  gone." 

"  Three  or  four  years ! "  Orsino  laughed,  in  spite 
of  himself. 

"Ah,  you  do  not  know!"  exclaimed  Vittoria, 
sadly.  "  You  do  not  know  our  country,  nor  our 
people !  You  think  it  is  like  Rome,  all  shop- 
keepers and  policemen,  and  sixty  noble  families, 
with  no  mafia !  You  laugh  now  —  but  when  they 
have  killed  you  I  shall  not  live  to  laugh  again. 
Am  I  your  life  ?  Then  you  are  mine.  What  will 
there  be  without  you,  when  they  have  killed  you  ? 
And  the  Winchester  rifles  shoot  so  far,  and  the 
outlaws  aim  so  straight !  How  can  you  be  saved  ? 
Do  you  think  it  is  nothing  that  I  should  know 
that  you  are  going  to  your  death  ? " 

"  It  is  an  exaggeration,"  said  Orsino,  trying  to 
soothe  her.  "  Such  things  are  not  done  in  a  civ- 
ilized country,  in  the  nineteenth  century." 

"  Sucli  things  ?  Ah,  and  worse,  far  worse ! 
Last  year  they  buried  a  man  up  to  his  neck  in 
the  earth,  alive,  and  left  him  there  to  die,  in  the 
woods  not  far  from  Camaldoli,  because  they  thought 
he  was  a  spy !  And  one  betrayed  some  of  the  band 
last  summer,  and  they  did  not  kill  him  at  once,  but 

VOL.  I. K 


130  CORLEONE 

caught  him  and  tortured  him,  so  that  it  took  him 
three  days  to  die.  You  do  not  know.  You  laugh, 
but  you  do  not  know  what  people  there  are  in 
Sicily,  nor  what  Sicilians  will  do  when  they  are 
roused.  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  go ! " 

"Even  if  all  you  tell  me  were  true,  I  should 
go,"  answered  Orsino. 

"  Will  nothing  keep  you  from  going  ? "  asked 
the  girl,  piteously. 

"  You  will  laugh  at  all  this  when  I  come  back 
to  you.  You  will  wonder  how  you  could  have 
tried  to  frighten  me  with  such  tales." 

She  looked  at  him  a  long  time  in  silence,  and 
then  her  lip  quivered,  so  that  she  quickly  raised 
one  hand  to  her  mouth  to  hide  it. 

"  It  would  have  been  better  if  I  had  never  left 
the  convent,"  she  said  in  a  broken  voice.  "  When 
they  have  killed  you,  I  shall  go  back  and  die 
there." 

"  When  I  come  back,  we  shall  be  married,  love  —  " 

"  Oh,  no  —  not  if  you  go  to  Camaldoli  —  we  shall 
never  be  married  in  this  world." 

The  slight  and  graceful  girl  shook  all  over  for 
a  moment,  and  then  seemed  to  grow  smaller,  as 
though  something  crushed  her.  But  there  were  no 
tears  in  her  eyes,  though  she  pressed  her  fingers 
on  her  lips  as  though  to  force  back  a  sob. 

"  Let  us  go  back,"  she  said.  "  I  want  to  go 
home  —  I  can  pray  for  you,  if  I  cannot  save  you. 


CORLEONE  131 

God  will  hear  me,  though  you  do  not,  and  God 
knows  that  it  will  be  your  death." 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  and  tried  to  comfort 
her,  but  she  would  not  again  lift  her  face,  and  he 
kissed  her  hair  once  more,  when  they  were  again 
in  the  shadow  on  the  bridge.  Then  they  waited 
till  no  one  was  passing  through  the  small  room, 
and  went  in  silently  to  find  her  mother.  She 
stopped  him  at  the  door  of  the  ballroom. 

"  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  speak  to  my 
mother,  nor  my  brothers,  about  —  about  us,"  she 
said  in  a  low.  voice. 

"  Very  well.  Not  till  I  come  back,  if  you  wish 
it,"  he  answered. 

And  they  went  in,  amongst  the  people,  un- 
noticed. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

VITTORIA  realized  that  it  was  beyond  her  power 
to  keep  Orsino  in  Rome,  and  she  was  in  great 
trouble.  She  had  begged  him  not  to  speak  of 
their  betrothal,  scarcely  knowing  why  she  made 
the  request,  but  she  was  afterwards  very  glad  that 
she  had  done  so.  To  her,  he  was  a  condemned 
man,  and  her  betrothal  was  a  solemn  binding  of 
herself  to  keep  faith  with  a  beloved  being  who 
must  soon  be  dead.  She  did  not  believe  that 
she  could  really  outlive  him,  but  if  Heaven  should 
be  so  unkind  to  her,  she  had  already  made  up  her 
mind  to  return  to  the  convent  where  she  had  been 
educated,  and  to  end  her  days  as  a  nun.  The 
acute  melancholy  which  belongs  to  the  people  of 
the  far  south,  as  well  as  of  the  far  north,  of  Nor- 
way and  of  Sicily  or  Egypt  alike,  at  once  as- 
serted itself  and  took  possession  of  her.  The 
next  time  Orsino  saw  her  he  was  amazed  at  the 
change.  The  colour  was  all  gone  from  her  face, 
her  lips  were  tightly  set,  and  her  brown  eyes  fol- 
lowed him  with  a  perpetual,  mute  anxiety.  Her 
radiance  was  veiled,  and  her  beauty  was  griev- 
ously diminished. 

132 


COELEONE  133 

It  was  at  a  garden  party,  in  a  great,  old  villa 
beyond  the  walls,  two  days  after  the  dance. 
Orsino  had  not  been  able  to  see  her  in  the 
meantime,  and  had  wisely  abstained  from  visit- 
ing her  mother,  lest,  in  any  way,  he  should  betray 
their  joint  secret.  She  was  already  in  the  garden 
when  he  arrived  with  Corona,  who  caught  sight  of 
Vittoria  from  a  distance  and  noted  the  change  in 
her  face. 

"Vittoria  d'Oriani  looks  ill,"  said  the  Princess, 
and  she  went  towards  her  at  once. 

She  was  too  tactful  to  ask  the  girl  what  was  the 
matter,  but  she  saw  how  Vittoria' s  eyes  could  not 
keep  from  Orsino,  and  she  half  guessed  the  truth, 
though  her  son's  face  was  impenetrable  just  then. 
An  old  friend  came  up  and  spoke  to  her,  and  she 
left  the  two  alone. 

They  quietly  moved  away  from  the  more  crowded 
part  of  the  garden,  walking  silently  side  by  side, 
till  they  came  to  a  long  walk  covered  by  the  inter- 
lacing branches  of  ilex  trees.  Another  couple  was 
walking  at  some  distance  before  them.  Orsino 
glanced  down  at  Vittoria,  and  tried  to  say  some- 
thing, but  it  was  not  easy.  He  had  not  realized 
how  the  mere  sight  of  her  stirred  him,  until  he 
found  himself  speechless  when  he  wished  to  say 
many  things. 

"You  are  suffering,"  he  said  softly,  at  last. 
"What  is  it?" 


134  COE  LEONE 

11  You  know, "  she  answered.  "  What  is  the  use 
of  talking  about  it?  I  have  said  all  —  but  tell  me 
only  when  you  are  going." 

"To-morrow  morning.  I  shall  be  back  in  a  fort- 
night." 

"You  will  never  come  back,"  said  Vittoria,  in  a 
dull  and  hopeless  tone. 

She  spoke  with  such  conviction  that  Orsino  was 
silent  for  a  moment.  He  had  not  the  smallest 
belief  in  any  danger,  but  he  did  not  know  how 
to  argue  with  her. 

"I  have  thought  it  all  over,"  she  went  on.  "If 
you  try  to  live  there,  you  will  certainly  be  killed. 
But  if  you  only  go  once,  there  is  a  chance  —  a 
poor,  miserable,  little  chance.  Let  them  think 
that  you  are  coming  up  from  Piedimonte,  by  way 
of  Randazzo.  It  is  above  Randazzo  that  the 
black  lands  begin,  all  lava  and  ashes,  with  deep 
furrows  in  which  a  man  can  lie  hidden  to  shoot. 
That  is  where  they  will  try  to  kill  you.  Go  the 
other  way,  round  by  Catania;  it  is  longer,  but 
they  will  not  expect  you,  and  you  can  get  a 
guide.  They  may  not  find  out  that  you  have 
changed  your  plan.  If  they  should  know  it,  they 
could  kill  you  even  more  easily  on  that  side,  in 
the  narrow  valley;  but  they  need  not  know 
it." 

"Nothing  will  happen  to  me  on  either  side," 
said  Orsino,  carelessly. 


CORLEONE  135 

Vittoria  bent  her  head  and  walked  on  in  silence 
beside  him. 

"I  did  not  wish  to  talk  about  all  that,"  he  con- 
tinued. "  There  are  much  more  important  things. 
When  I  come  back  .we  must  be  married  soon  — " 

"  We  shall  never  be  married  if  you  go  to  Sicily, " 
answered  Vittoria,  in  the  same  dull  voice. 

It  was  a  fixed  idea,  and  Orsino  felt  the  hopeless- 
ness of  trying  to  influence  her,  together  with  a 
pardonable  impatience.  The  couple  ahead  of  them 
reached  the  end  of  the  walk,  turned,  met  them, 
and  passed  them  with  a  greeting,  for  they  were 
acquaintances.  Where  the  little  avenue  ended 
there  was  a  great  fountain  of  travertine  stone, 
behind  which,  in  the  wide  arch  of  the  opening 
trees,  they  could  see  the  Campagna  and  the 
Sabine  mountains  to  the  eastward. 

Vittoria  stopped  when  they  reached  the  other 
side  of  the  basin,  which  was  moss-grown,  but  full 
of  clear  water  that  trickled  down  an  almost 
shapeless  stone  triton.  The  statue  and  the  foun- 
tain hid  them  from  anyone  who  might  be  com- 
ing up  the  walk,  and  at  their  feet  lay  the  broad 
green  Campagna.  They  were  quite  alone. 

The  young  girl  raised  her  eyes,  and  she  looked 
already  as  though  she  had  been  in  an  illness. 

"We  cannot  stay  more  than  a  moment,"  she 
said.  "If  people  see  us  going  off  together,  they 
will  guess.  I  want  it  to  be  all  my  secret.  I 


136  CORLEONE 

want  to  say  goodbye  to  you  —  for  the  last  time. 
I  shall  remember  you  always  as  you  are  now, 
Avith  the  light  on  your  face." 

She  looked  at  him  long,  and  her  eyes  slowly 
filled  with  tears,  which  did  not  break  nor  run 
over,  but  little  by  little  subsided  again,  taking 
her  grief  back  to  her  heart.  Orsino's  brows 
frowned  with  pain,  for  he  saw  how  profoundly 
she  believed  that  she  was  never  to  see  him  again, 
and  it  hurt  him  that  for  him  she  should  be  so 
hurt,  most  of  all  because  he  was  convinced  that 
there  was  no  cause. 

"We  go  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "We  shall  be  in 
Messina  the  next  day.  On  the  day  after  that  go 
and  see  my  mother,  and  she  will  tell  you  that 
she  has  had  news  of  our  safe  arrival.  What  more 
can  I  say?  I  am  sure  of  it." 

But  Vittoria  only  looked  long  and  earnestly  into 
his  face. 

"I  want  to  remember,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

"For  a  fortnight?"  Orsino  smiled  lovingly,  and 
took  her  hand. 

"For  ever,"  she  answered  very  gravely,  and  her 
fingers  clutched  his  suddenly  and  hard. 

He  still  smiled,  for  he  could  find  nothing  to  say 
against  such  possession  of  presentiment.  Common 
sense  never  has  anything  effectual  to  oppose  to 
conviction. 

"  Goodbye,"  she  said  softly.    "  Goodbye,  Orsino." 


COR  LEONE  137 

She  had  not  called  him  by  his  name  yet,  and  it 
sounded  like  an  enchantment  to  him,  though  it 
was  a  rough  name  in  itself.  The  breeze  stirred 
the  ilex  leaves  overhead  in  the  spring  afternoon, 
and  the  water  trickled  down,  with  a  pleasant 
murmur,  into  the  big  basin.  It  was  all  lovely 
and  peaceful  and  soft,  except  the  look  in  her 
despairing  eyes.  That  disturbed  him  as  he  met 
it  and  saw  no  change  in  it,  but  always  the  same 
hopeless  pain. 

"Come,"  he  said  quietly,  "this  is  not  sensible. 
Do  I  look  like  a  man  who  is  going  to  be  killed 
like  a  dog  in  the  street,  without  doing  something 
to  help  myself?  " 

Her  eyes  filled  again. 

"Oh,  pray  —  please  —  do  not  speak  like  that! 
Say  goodbye  to  me  —  I  cannot  bear  it  any  longer 
—  and  yet  it  kills  me  to  let  you  go ! " 

She  turned  from  him  and  covered  her  eyes  with 
her  hands  for  a  moment,  while  he  put  his  arm 
round  her  reassuringly.  Then,  all  at  once,  she 
looked  up. 

"I  will  be  brave  —  goodbye!"  she  said  quickly. 

It  was  a  silent  leave-taking  after  that,  for  he 
could  not  say  much.  His  only  answer  to  her 
must  be  his  safe  return,  but  as  they  went  back 
along  the  walk,  she  felt  that  she  was  with  him 
for  the  last  time.  It  was  like  going  with  him  to 
execution. 


138  CORLEONE 

Orsino  walked  back  to  the  city  alone,  thinking 
over  her  words  and  her  face,  and  wondering 
whether  there  could  be  anything  in  presenti- 
ments of  evil.  He  had  never  had  any  himself, 
that  he  could  remember,  and  he  had  never  seen 
anybody  so  thoroughly  under  the  influence  of  one 
as  Vittoria  seemed  to  be. 

Before  dinner  he  went  to  see  San  Giacinto,  whom 
he  found  alone  in  his  big  study,  sitting  in  his 
huge  chair  before  his  enormous  table.  He  was  so 
large  that  he  had  his  own  private  furniture  made 
to  suit  his  own  dimensions.  The  table  was  cov- 
ered with  note  books  and  papers,  very  neatly 
arranged,  and  the  grey-haired  giant  was  writing 
a  letter.  He  looked  up  as  Orsino  entered  and 
uttered  a  sort  of  inarticulate  exclamation  of  sat- 
isfaction. Then  he  went  on  writing,  while  Orsino 
sat  down  and  watched  him. 

"Do  you  happen  to  have  a  gun  license?"  asked 
San  Giacinto,  without  looking  up. 

"Of  course." 

"Put  it  in  your  pocket  for  the  journey,"  was 
the  answer,  as  the  pen  went  on  steadily. 

"Is  there  any  game  about  Camaldoli?"  enquired 
Orsino,  after  a  pause. 

"Brigands,"  replied  San  Giacinto,  laconically, 
and  still  writing. 

He  would  have  said  '  woodcock '  in  the  same 
tone,  being  a  plain  man  and  not  given  to  dramatic 


CORLEONE  139 

emphasis.  Orsino  laughed  a  little  incredulously, 
but  said  nothing,  as  he  sat  waiting  for  his  kins- 
man to  finish  his  letter.  His  eyes  wandered  about 
the  room,  and  presently  they  fell  on  a  stout  sole- 
leather  bag  which  stood  by  a  chair  near  the 
window.  On  the  chair  itself  lay  two  leathern 
gun-cases  obviously  containing  modern  rifles,  as 
their  shape  and  size  showed.  With  a  man's  natu- 
ral instinct  for  arms,  Orsino  rose  and  took  one  of 
the  weapons  out  of  its  case,  and  examined  it. 

"Winchesters,"  said  San  Giacinto,  still  driving 
his  pen. 

"I  see,"  answered  Orsino,  feeling  the  weight, 
and  raising  the  rifle  to  his  shoulder  as  though  to 
try  the  length  of  the  stock. 

"Most  people  prefer  them  in  Sicily,"  observed 
San  Giacinto,  who  had  signed  his  name  and  was 
folding  his  note  carefully. 

"What  do  you  want  them  for?"  asked  the 
younger  man,  still  incredulous. 

"  It  is  the  custom  of  the  country  to  carry  them 
down  there,"  said  the  other.  "Besides,  there  are 
brigands  about.  I  told  you  so,  just  now." 

San  Giacinto  did  not  like  to  repeat  explanations. 

"I  thought  you  were  joking,"  remarked  Orsino. 

"  I  never  did  that.  I  suppose  we  shall  not  have 
the  luck  to  fall  in  with  any  of  those  fellows,  but 
there  has  been  a  good  deal  of  trouble  lately,  and 
we  shall  not  be  particularly  popular  as  Romans 


140  CORLEONE 

going  to  take  possession  of  Sicilian  lands.  We 
should  be  worth  a  ransom  too,  and  by  this  time 
the  whole  country  knows  that  we  are  coming." 

"Then  we  may  really  have  some  excitement," 
said  Orsino,  more  surprised  than  he  would  show 
at  his  cousin's  confirmation  of  much  that  Vittoria 
had  said.  "How  about  the  mafia?"  he  asked  by 
way  of  leading  San  Giacinto  into  conversation. 
"How  will  it  look  at  us?" 

"The  mafia  is  not  a  man,"  answered  San  Gia- 
cinto, bluntly.  "The  mafia  is  the  Sicilian  char- 
acter—  Sicilian  honour,  Sicilian  principles.  It  is 
an  idea,  not  an  institution.  It  is  what  makes  it 
impossible  to  govern  Sicily." 

"Or  to  live  there,"  suggested  Orsino. 

"  Except  with  considerable  tact.  You  will  find 
out  something  about  it  very  soon,  if  you  try  to 
manage  that  place.  But  if  you  are  nervous,  you 
had  better  not  try." 

"  I  am  not  nervous,  I  believe." 

"Xo,  it  is  of  no  use  to  be.  It  is  better  to  be  a 
fatalist.  Fatalism  gives  you  your  own  soul,  and 
leaves  your  body  to  the  chemistry  of  the  universe, 
where  it  belongs.  If  your  body  comes  into  contact 
with  something  that  does  not  agree  with  it,  you 
die.  That  is  all." 

There  was  an  admirable  directness  in  San  Gia- 
cinto's  philosophy,  as  Orsino  knew.  They  made  a 
final  agreement  about  meeting  at  the  station  on  the 


COELEONE  141 

following  morning,  and  Orsino  went  home  a  good 
deal  less  inclined  to  treat  Vittoria's  presentiments 
lightly.  It  had  been  characteristic  of  San  Giacinto 
that  he  had  hitherto  simply  forgotten  to  mention 
that  there  might  be  real  danger  in  the  expedition 
to  Camaldoli,  and  it  was  equally  in  accordance  with 
Orsino's  character  to  take  the  prospect  of  it  simply 
and  gravely.  There  was  a  strong  resemblance 
between  the  two  kinsmen,  and  Orsino  understood 
his  cousin  better  than  his  father  or  any  of  his 
brothers. 

He  had  already  explained  to  his  mother  what  he 
was  going  to  do,  and  she  had  been  glad  to  learn 
that  he  had  found  something  to  interest  him. 
Both  Corona  and  Sant'  Ilario  had  the  prevailing 
impression  that  the  Sicilian  difficulties  were  more 
or  less  imaginary.  That  is  what  most  Romans 
think,  and  the  conviction  is  general  in  the  north 
of  Italy.  As  Orsino  said  nothing  about  his  con- 
versation with  San  Giacinto  on  that  last  evening, 
his  father  and  mother  had  not  the  slightest  idea 
that  there  was  danger  before  him,  and  as  they  had 
both  noticed  his,  liking  for  Vittoria,  they  were  very 
glad  that  he  should  go  away  just  then,  and  forget 
her. 

The  old  Prince  bade  him  goodbye  that  night. 

"Whatever  you  do,  my  boy,"  he  said,  shaking 
his  snowy  old  head  energetically,  "  do  not  marry  a 
Sicilian  girl." 


142  COELEONE 

The  piece  of  advice  was  so  unexpected  that 
Orsino  started  slightly,  and  then  laughed,  as  he 
took  his  grandfather's  hand.  It  was  oddly  smooth, 
as  the  hands  of  very  old  men  are,  but  it  was  warm 
still,  and  not  so  feeble  as  might  have  been  expected. 

"  And  if  you  should  get  into  trouble  down  there," 
said  the  head  of  the  house,  who  had  known  Sicily 
seventy  years  earlier,  "  shoot  first.  Never  wait  to 
be  shot  at." 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  there  will  be  much  shoot- 
ing nowadays,"  laughed  Sant'  Ilario. 

"That  does  not  make  my  advice  bad,  does  it?" 
asked  old  Saracinesca,  turning  upon  his  son,  for 
the  least  approach  to  contradiction  still  roused  his 
anger  instantly. 

"Oh,  no!"  answered  Giovanni.  "It  is  very 
good  advice." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  growled  the  old  gentleman, 
discontentedly.  "  I  never  gave  anyone  bad  advice 
in  my  life.  But  you  boys  are  always  contradicting 
me." 

Giovanni  smiled  rather  sadly.  It  was  not  in 
the  nature  of  things  that  men  over  ninety  years 
old  should  live  much  longer,  but  he  felt  what  a 
break  in  the  household's  life  the  old  man's  death 
must  one  day  make,  when  the  vast  vitality  should 
be  at  last  worn  out. 


CHAPTER  IX 

ORSIXO  travelled  down  to  Naples  with  San  Gia- 
cinto  in  that  peculiar  state  of  mind  in  which  an 
unsentimental  but  passionate  man  finds  himself 
when  he  is  leaving  the  woman  he  loves  in  order 
to  go  and  do  something  which  he  knows  must  be 
done,  which  he  wishes  to  do,  and  which  involves 
danger  and  difficulty. 

San  Giacinto  did  not  say  much  more  about 
brigands,  or  the  mafia,  but  he  talked  freely  of  the 
steps  to  be  taken  on  arriving  in  Messina,  in  order 
to  get  a  proper  escort  of  soldiers  from  Piedimonte 
to  Camaldoli,  and  it  was  perfectly  clear  that  he 
anticipated  trouble.  Orsino  was  surprised  to  find 
that  he  expected  to  have  four  or  five  carabineers 
permanently  quartered  at  Camaldoli,  by  way  of 
protection,  and  that  he  had  already  applied  in  the 
proper  quarter  to.  have  the  men  sent  to  meet  him. 
Then  he  began  to  talk  of  the  projected  railway  and 
of  the  questions  of  engineering  involved. 

Orsino  felt  lonely  in  his  society,  and  it  was  a 

sensation  to  which  he  was  not  accustomed.      It 

was  long  since  he  had  known  what  it  was  to  miss 

a  woman's  eyes  and  a  woman's  voice,  and  he  had 

143 


144  CORLEONE 

not  thought  that  he  should  know  it  again.  As  the 
train  ran  on,  hour  after  hour,  he  grew  more  silent, 
not  wondering  at  himself,  but  accepting  quite 
simply  the  fact  that  it  hurt  him  to  leave  Vittoria 
far  behind,  and  that  he  longed  for  her  presence 
more  and  more.  He  could  not  help  thinking  how 
easy  it  .would  be  for  him  to  refuse  to  go  on,  and  to 
take  the  next  train  back  from  Naples  to  Rome,  and 
to  see  her  to-morrow.  He  would  not  have  done 
such  a  thing  for  the  world,  but  he  could  not  escape 
from  the  rather  contemptible  pleasure  of  thinking 
about  it. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  steamer  that  was  to 
take  them  to  Messina  got  under  way,  —  an  old-fash- 
ioned, uncomfortable  boat,  crowded  with  people 
of  all  kinds,  for  the  vessel  was  to  go  on  to  Malta 
on  the  next  day.  At  the  bad  dinner  in  the  dim 
cabin  the  tables  were  full,  and  many  of  the  people 
were  talking  in  the  Maltese  dialect,  which  is  an 
astonishing  compound  of  Italian  and  Arabic,  per- 
fectly incomprehensible  both  to  Arabs  and  Ital- 
ians. They  stared  at  San  Giacinto  because  he  was 
a  giant,  and  evidently  talked  about  him  in  their 
own  language,  which  irritated  Orsino,  though  the 
big  man  seemed  perfectly  indifferent.  Neither 
cared  to  speak,  and  they  got  through  their  abomi- 
nable dinner  in  silence  and  went  up  to  smoke  on 
deck. 

Orsino  leaned  upon  the  rail  and  gazed  longingly 


CORLEONE  145 

at  the  looming  mountains,  behind  which  the  full 
moon  was  rising.  He  was  not  sentimental,  for 
Italian  men  rarely  are,  but  like  all  his  fellow- 
countrymen  he  was  alive  to  the  sensuous  sugges- 
tions of  nature  at  certain  times,  and  the  shadowy 
land,  the  rising  moon,  the  gleaming  ripple  of  the 
water,  and  the  evening  breeze  on  his  face,  brought 
Vittoria  more  vividly  than  ever  to  his  mind.  He 
looked  up  at  San  Giaciuto,  and  even  the  latter's 
massive  and  gloomy  features  seemed  to  be  softened 
by  the  gentle  light  and  the  enchantment  of  the 
southern  sea.  Unconsciously  he  was  more  closely 
drawn  to  the  man  of  his  own  blood,  after  being 
jostled  in  the  crowd  of  doubtful  passengers  who 
filled  the  steamer. 

It  was  not  in  his  nature  to  make  confidences, 
but  he  wished  that  his  friend  and  kinsman  knew 
that  he  was  in  love  with  Vittoria  and  meant  to 
marry  her.  It  would  have  made  the  journey  less 
desolate  and  lonely.  He  was  still  young,  as  San 
Giacinto  would  have  told  him,  with  grim  indiffer- 
ence, if  Orsino  had  unburdened  his  heart  at  that 
moment.  But  he  did  not  mean  to  do  that.  He 
leaned  over  the  rail  and  smoked  in  silence,  looking 
from  the  moon  to  the  rippling  water  and  back  again, 
and  wishing  that  the  night  were  not  before  him,  but 
that  he  were  already  in  Messina  with  something 
active  to  do.  To  be  doing  the  thing  would  be  to 
get  nearer  to  Vittoria,  since  he  could  return  with 

VOL.   I. L 


146  CORLEONE 

a  clear  conscience  as  soon  as  it  should  be  done.  At 
last  he  spoke,  in  a  careless  tone. 

"My  grandfather  gave  me  some  advice  last 
night,"  he  said.  "Never  to  marry  a  Sicilian  girl, 
and  always  to  shoot  first  if  there  were  any  shooting 
to  be  done." 

"Provided  that  you  do  not  marry  the  Corleone 
girl,  I  do  not  see  why  you  should  not  take  a  Sicil- 
ian wife  if  you  please,"  answered  San  Giacinto, 
calmly. 

"Why  should  a  man  not  marry  Vittoria  d'Ori- 
ani?"  enquired  Orsino,  startled  to  find  himself  so 
suddenly  speaking  of  what  filled  him. 

"  I  did  not  say  'a  man '  in  general.  I  meant  you. 
It  would  be  a  bad  match.  It  would  draw  you  into 
relationship  with  the  worst  blood  in  the  country, 
and  that  is  a  great  objection  to  it.  Then  she  is  a 
niece,  and  her  brothers  are  nephews,  of  that  old 
villain  Corleone  who  married  one  of  the  Campodo- 
nico  women.  She  died  of  unhappiness,  I  believe, 
and  I  do  not  wonder.  Have  you  noticed  that 
none  of  the  Campodonico  will  have  anything  to  do 
with  them?  Even  old  Donna  Francesca  —  you 
know?  —  the  saint  who  lives  in  the  Palazzetto  Bor- 
gia—  she  told  your  mother  that  she  hoped  never 
to  know  a  Corleone  by  sight  again.  They  are 
disliked  in  Rome.  But  you  would  never  be  such 
an  arrant  fool  as  to  go  and  fall  in  love  with  the 
girl,  I  suppose,  though  she  is  charming,  and  I  can 


CORLEONE  147 

see  that  you  admire  her.  Not  very  clever,  I 
fancy,  —  brought  up  by  a  museum  of  old  Sicilian 
ladies  in  a  Palermo  convent,  — but  very  charming." 

It  was  an  unexpectedly  long  speech,  on  an  unex- 
pected theme,  and  it  was  fortunate  that  it  con- 
tained nothing  which  could  wound  Orsino's  feelings 
through  Vittoria;  for,  in  that  case,  he  Avould  have 
quarrelled  with  his  cousin  forthwith,  not  being  of 
a  patient  disposition.  As  it  was,  the  young  man 
glanced  up  sharply  from  time  to  time,  looking  out 
for  some  depreciatory  expression.  He  was  glad 
when  San  Giacinto  had  finished  speaking. 

"If  I  wished  to  marry  her,"  said  Orsino,  "I 
should  not  care  who  her  relations  might  be." 

"You  would  find  yourself  caring  a  great  deal 
afterwards,  if  they  made  trouble  with  your  own 
people.  But  I  admit  that  the  girl  has  charm  and 
some  beauty,  and  it  is  only  fools  who  need  clever 
wives  to  think  for  them.  Good  night.  We  may 
have  a  long  day  to-morrow,  and  we  shall  land  about 
seven  in  the  morning.  I  am  going  to  bed." 

Orsino  watched  the  huge  figure  as  it  bent  low 
and  disappeared ^down  the  companion,  and  he  was 
glad  that  San  Giacinto  had  taken  himself  off  with- 
out talking  any  more  about  Vittoria.  He  stayed  on 
deck  another  hour,  watching  the  light  on  the  water, 
and  then  went  below.  He  and  his  cousin  had  a 
cabin  together,  and  he  found  the  old  giant  asleep 
on  the  sofa,  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  with  his  long  legs 


148  CORLEONE 

resting  on  a  portmanteau  and  extending  half  across 
the  available  space,  while  he  had  widened  the  tran- 
som for  his  vast  shoulders  by  the  help  of  a  camp 
stool.  He  slept  soundly,  almost  solemnly,  under 
the  small  swinging  oil-lamp,  and  there  was  some- 
thing grand  and  soldier-like  about  his  perfect 
indifference  to  discomfort.  In  a  corner  of  the 
cabin,  among  a  quantity  of  traps,  the  two  rifles 
stood  upright  in  their  leathern  cases.  It  was  long 
before  Orsino  fell  asleep. 

He  was  glad  when  they  got  ashore  at  last  in 
the  early  morning.  Messina  has  the  reputation  of 
being  the  dirtiest  city  in  all  Italy,  and  it  has  the 
disagreeable  peculiarity  of  not  possessing  a  decent 
inn  of  any  sort.  San  Giacinto  and  Orsino  sat  down 
in  a  shabby  and  dirty  room  to  drink  certain  vile 
coffee  which  was  brought  up  to  them  on  little 
brass  trays  from  a  cafe  at  the  corner  of  the 
street.  San  Giacinto  produced  a  silver  flask  and 
poured  a  dose  of  spirits  into  his  cup,  and  offered 
Orsino  some;  but  the  younger  man  had  not  been 
bred  in  the  country  and  had  never  acquired  the 
common  Italian  habit  of  strengthening  bad  coffee 
with  alcohol.  So  he  consoled  his  taste  with  ciga- 
rettes. 

San  Giacinto  found  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  proceed  to  Camaldoli  till  the  following  day, 
and  the  two  men  spent  the  morning  and  most  of 
the  afternoon  in  making  the  necessary  arrange- 


COELEONE  149 

merits.  It  was  indispensable  to  see  the  officer  in 
command  of  the  carabineers  and  the  prefect  of 
the  province,  and  San  Giacinto  knew  that  it 
would  be  wiser  to  send  certain  supplies  up  from 
Messina. 

"I  suppose  that  someone  is  there  to  hand  the 
place  over  ?  "  said  Orsino. 

"Tebaldo  Pagliuca  said  that  we  should  make 
enquiries  of  an  old  notary  called  Basili,  in  Ran- 
dazzo,  as  his  brother,  being  displeased  with  the 
sale,  would  probably  refuse  to  meet  us.  Basili  is 
to  have  the  keys  and  will  send  a  man  with  us. 
We  shall  have  to  rough  it  for  a  day  or  two." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  they  have  locked 
the  place  up  and  left  it  without  even  a  servant 
in  charge?"  asked  Orsino. 

"Apparently.  We  shall  know  when  we  get 
there.  I  daresay  that  we  may  have  to  make 
our  own  coffee  and  cook  our  own  food.  It  is 
rather  a  lonely  neighbourhood,  and  the  people 
whom  Ferdinando  Pagliuca  employed  have  prob- 
ably all  left." 

"It  sounds  a.  little  vague,"  observed  Orsino. 
"I  suppose  we  shall  find  horses  to  take  us  up?" 

"That  is  all  arranged.  We  shall  go  up  in  a 
carriage,  with  four  or  five  mounted  carabineers,  who 
will  stay  with  us  till  they  are  relieved  by  others. 
They  will  all  be  waiting  at  the  town  of  Piedi- 
monte,  above  the  station.  I  daresay  that  ruffian 


150  COELEONE 

has  carried  off  the  furniture,  too,  and  we  may 
have  to  sleep  on  the  floor  in  our  cloaks." 

"It  would  have  been  sensible  to  have  brought 
a  servant  with  us." 

"No.  Servants  get  into  the  way  when  there 
is  trouble." 

Orsino  lighted  another  cigarette  and  said  noth- 
ing. He  was  beginning  to  think  that  the  whole 
thing  sounded  like  an  expedition  into  an  enemy's 
country.  They  were  dining  in  a  queer  little  res- 
taurant built  over  the  water,  at  the  end  of  the 
town  towards  the  Faro.  It  was  evidently  the 
fashionable  resort  at  that  time  of  year,  and 
Orsino  studied  the  faces  of  the  guests  at  the 
other  tables.  He  thought  that  many  of  them 
were  like  Tebaldo  Pagliuca,  though  Avith  less 
malignity  in  their  faces;  but  now  and  then  he 
heard  words  spoken  with  the  unmistakable  Neapol- 
itan accent,  showing  that  all  Avere  not  Sicilians. 

"They  killed  a  carabineer  close  to  Camaldoli 
last  week,"  said  San  Giacinto,  thoughtfully  divid- 
ing a  large  slice  of  sword-fish,  which  is  the  local 
delicacy.  "  One  of  them  put  on  the  dead  soldier's 
uniform,  passed  himself  off  for  a  carabineer,  and 
arrested  the  bailiff  of  the  Duca  di  Fornasco  that 
night,  and  marched  him  out  of  the  village.  They 
carried  him  off  to  the  woods,  and  he  has  not  been 
heard  of  since.  He  had  given  some  information 
against  them  in  the  winter,  so  they  will  probably 


COBLEONE  151 

take  some  pains  to  kill  him  slowly,  and  send  his 
head  back  to  his  relations  in  a  basket  of  tomatoes 
in  a  day  or  two." 

"Are  those  things  positively  true?"  asked 
Orsiuo,  incredulous  even  now. 

"The  story  was  in  the  paper  this  morning, 
and  I  asked  the  prefect.  He  said  it  was  quite 
exact.  You  see  the  rifles  may  be  useful,  after 
all,  and  the  carabineers  are  rather  more  indis- 
pensable than  food  and  drink." 

Again  Orsino  though  of  all  Vittoria  had  told 
him,  and  he  realized  that  whether  the  wild  tales 
were  literally  true  or  not,  she  was  not  the  only 
person  who  believed  them.  Just  then  a  long 
fishing-boat  ran  past  the  little  pier,  close  to  the 
place  where  he  was  sitting  at  table.  Six  men 
were  sending  her  along  with  her  sharp  stern 
foremost,  as  they  generally  do,  standing  to  their 
long  oars  and  throwing  their  whole  strength  into 
the  work,  for  they  were  late,  and  the  current 
would  turn  against  them  when  the  moon  rose, 
as  everyone  knows  who  lives  in  Messina.  Or- 
sino did  not  remember  that  he  had  ever  seen  just 
such  types  of  men,  bare-headed,  dark  as  Arabs, 
square-jawed,  sinewy,  fierce-eyed,  with  grave,  thin 
lips,  every  one  of  them  a  fighting  match  for  three 
or  four  Neapolitans.  They  were  probably  the 
first  genuine  Sicilians  of  the  people  whom  he 
had  ever  seen,  and  they  were  not  like  any  other 


152  COELEONE 

Italians.  San  Giacinto  watched  them  too,  and 
he  smiled  a  little,  as  though  the  sight  gave  him 
satisfaction. 

"  That  is  the  reason  why  there  is  no  salt-tax  in 
Sicily,"  he  said.  "That  is  also  the  reason  why 
Italy  is  ruled  by  a  single  Sicilian,  by  Crispi. 
Good  or  bad,  he  is  a  man,  at  all  events  —  and 
those  fellows  are  men.  I  would  rather  have  one 
of  those  fishermen  at  my  elbow  in  danger,  than 
twenty  bragging  Piedmontese,  or  a  hundred  civil- 
ized Tuscans." 

"But  they  are  treacherous,"  observed  Orsino. 

"No,  they  are  not,"  answered  the  older  man, 
thoughtfully.  "They  hate  authority  and  rebel 
against  it,  and  the  mafia  idea  keeps  them  together 
like  one  man.  Successful  revolution  is  always 
called  patriotism,  and  unsuccessful  rebellion  is 
always  branded  as  treachery  or  treason.  I  have 
heard  that  somewhere,  and  it  is  true.  But  what 
we  want  in  Italy  is  men,  not  ideas;  action,  not 
talk;  honesty,  not  policy." 

"  We  shall  never  get  those  things, "  said  Orsino, 
who  was  naturally  pessimistic.  "Italian  unity 
has  come  too  late  for  a  renascence,  and  too  soon 
for  a  new  birth." 

San  Giacinto  smiled  rather  contemptuously. 

"You  are  an  aristocrat,  my  dear  boy,"  he 
answered.  "You  want  the  clear  wine  without 
the  filthy,  fermenting  must." 


COELEONE  153 

"I  think  we  have  the  same  name,  you  and  I," 
observed  Orsino. 

"  Yes,  but  I  should  be  what  I  am,  if  I  had  been 
called  Moscetti." 

"And  I?"  enquired  Orsino,  his  eyes  kindling 
a  little  at  the  implied  contrast  of  powers. 

"If  you  had  been  plain  Signer  Moscetti,  you 
would  have  been  a  very  different  kind  of  man. 
You  would  have  worked  hard  at  architecture,  I 
suppose,  and  you  would  have  acquired  an  indi- 
viduality. As  it  is,  you  have  not  much  more 
than  the  individuality  of  your  class,  and  very 
little  of  your  own.  You  are  a  product,  whereas 
I  was  forced  to  become  a  producer  when  I  was 
very  young  —  a  worker,  in  other  words.  Socially, 
I  am  a  Saracinesca,  like  you;  morally  and  act- 
ually, I  have  been  a  man  of  the  people  all  my 
life,  because  I  began  among  the  people.  I  have 
made  myself  what  I  am.  You  were  made  what 
you  are  by  somebody  who  lived  in  the  twelfth 
century.  I  do  not  blame  you,  and  I  do  not  boast 
about  myself.  We  like  each  other,  but  we  are 
fundamentally  different,  and  we  emphatically  do 
not  like  the  same  things.  We  are  different  kinds 
of  animals  that  happen  to  be  called  by  the  same 
name." 

"  I  tried  to  work  once,"  said  Orsino,  thoughtfully. 

"  A  man  cannot  do  that  sort  of  work  against  the 
odds  of  sixty-four  quarterings  and  an  unlimited 


154  COBLEONE 

foivtune.  But  you -had  the  instinct,  just  as  I  have 
it.  You  and  I  have  more  in  common  with  those 
fishermen  who  just  went  by,  than  we  have  with 
most  of  our  friends .  in  Rome.  We  are  men,  at 
all  events,  as  I  said  of  Crispi." 

Orsino  was  silent,  for  he  was  not  in  the  humour 
to  argue  about  anything,  and  he  saw  the  truth  of 
much  that  his  cousin  had  said,  and  felt  a  hopeless- 
ness about  doing  anything  in  the  world  with  which 
he  had  long  been  familiar. 

The  sun  had  gone  down,  leaving  a  deep  glow  on 
the  Calabrian  mountains,  on  the  other  side  of  the 
straits,  and  the  water  rippled  with  the  current 
like  purple  silk.  To  the  left,  the  heights  above 
Scilla  were  soft  and  dreamy  in  a  wine-coloured 
haze,  and  the  great  lighthouse  shot  out  its  white 
ray  through  the  gathering  dusk.  To  the  right, 
the  royal  yards  and  top-gallant  rigging  of  the 
vessels  in  the  harbour  made  a  dark  lace  against 
the  high,  white  houses  that  caught  the  departing 
twilight.  It  was  near  moonrise,  and  the  breeze 
had  almost  died  away.  The  lights  of  the  city 
began  to  shine  out,  one  by  one,  then  quickly,  by 
scores,  and  under  the  little  jetty,  where  the  two 
men  sat,  the  swirling  water  was  all  at  once  black 
and  gleaming  as  flowing  ink.  Far  off,  a  boat  was 
moving,  and  the  oars  swung  against  the  single 
tholes  with  an  even,  monotonous  knocking  that 
was  pleasant  to  hear. 


CORLEONE  155 

Orsino  poured  out  another  glass  of  the  strong 
black  wine  and  drank  it,  for  the  air  was  growing 
chilly.  San  Giacinto  did  the  same  and  lighted  a 
cigar.  They  sat  almost  an  hour  in  silence,  and 
then  went  slowly  back  to  their  squalid  hotel  on 
the  quay. 


CHAPTER  X 

Ox  the  following  day  Orsino  and  San  Giacinto 
descended  from  the  train  at  the  little  station  of 
Piedimonte  d'Etna,  'the  foot  of  Mount  Etna/  as 
it  would  be  translated.  It  is  a  small,  well-kept 
station  near  the  sea,  surrounded  by  gardens  of 
oranges  and  lemons,  and  orchards  of  fruit  trees,  and 
gay  with  vines  and  flowers,  penetrated  by  the  in- 
tense southern  light.  The  sky  was  perfectly  cloud- 
less, the  sea  of  a  gem-like  blue,  the  peach  blossoms 
were  out  by  thousands,  and  the  red  pomegranate 
flowers  had  lately  burst  out  of  the  bud,  in  splendid 
contrast  with  the  deep,  sheeny  green  of  the  smooth 
orange  leaves.  The  trees  had  an  air  of  belonging 
to  pleasure  gardens  rather  than  to  business-like 
orchards,  and  the  whole  coloiiring  was  almost  arti- 
ficially magnificent.  It  was  late  spring  in  the  far 
south,  and  Orsino  had  never  seen  it.  He  had  been 
on  the  Riviera,  and  in  Sorrento,  when  the  orange 
blossoms  were  all  out,  scenting  the  sea  more  than  a 
mile  from  laud,  and  he  had  seen  the  spring  in  Eng- 
land, which,  once  in  every  four  or  five  years,  is  worth 
seeing;  but  he  had  not  dreamt  of  such  dazzling 
glories  of  colour  as  filled  the  earth  and  sky  and  sea 
156 


COBLEONE  157 

of  Sicily.  It  was  not  tropical,  for  there  was  noth- 
ing uncultivated  nor  unfruitful  in  sight ;  it  seemed 
as  though  the  little  belt  of  gardens  he  saw  around 
him  must  be  the  richest  in  the  whole  world,  and 
as  though  neither  man  nor  beast  nor  flower  nor 
fruit  could  die  in  the  fluid  life  of  the  fragrant  air. 
It  was  very  unexpected.  San  Giacinto  was  not 
the  kind  of  man  to  give  enthusiastic  descriptions 
of  views,  and  the  conversation  on  the  previous 
evening  had  prepared  Orsino's  mind  for  the  wild 
hill  country  above,  but  not  for  the  belt  of  glory 
which  Sicily  wears  like  a  jewelled  baldric  round 
her  breast,  hidden  here  and  there  as  it  were,  or 
obliterated,  by  great  crags  running  far  out  into  the 
sea,  but  coining  into  sight  again  instantly  as  each 
point  is  passed. 

In  the  heap  of  traps  and  belongings  that  lay 
at  his  feet  on  the  little  platform,  the  two  repeat- 
ing rifles  in  their  leathern  cases  were  very  good 
reminders  of  what  the  two  men  had  before  them 
on  that  day  and  for  days  and  weeks  afterwards. 

"Winchesters,"  observed  the  porter  who  took 
the  things  to  the  carriage  behind  the  station. 

"  How  did  you  know  that  ?  "  asked  Orsino,  sur- 
prised at  the  man's  remark. 

"  As  if  they  were  the  first  I  have  carried ! " 
exclaimed  the  man,  with  a  grin.  "  Almost  all  the 
signori  have  them  nowadays.  People  say  they 
will  kill  at  half  a  kilometre." 


158  COELEONE 

"Put  them  inside,"  said  San  Giacinto,  as  they 
were  arranging  the  things.  "  Put  them  on  the  back 
seat  with  that  case." 

"  Yes,  the  cartridges,"  said  the  porter,  knowingly, 
as  he  felt  the  weight  of  the  package. 

"  And  God  send  you  no  need  of  them ! "  ex- 
claimed the  coachman,  a  big  dark  man  with  a 
stubbly  chin,  a  broad  hat,  and  a  shabby  velvet 
jacket. 

"  Amen ! "  ejaculated  the  porter. 

"  Are  you  going  with  us  all  the  way  ? "  asked 
San  Giacinto  of  the  coachman,  looking  at  him 
keenly. 

"No,  signore.  The  master  will  drive  you  up 
from  Piedimonte.  He  is  known  up  there,  but  I 
am  of  Messina.  It  is  always  better  to  be  known  — 
or  else  it  is  much  worse.  But  the  master  is  a  much 
respected  man." 

"Since  he  has  come  back,"  put  in  the  por- 
ter, his  shaven  mouth  stretching  itself  in  a  grim 
smile. 

"  Has  he  been  in  America  ?  "  asked  Orsino,  idly, 
knowing  how  many  of  the  people  made  the  journey 
to  work,  earn  money,  and  return  within  a  few 
years. 

"  He  has  been  to  the  other  America,  which  they 
call  Ponza,"  answered  the  man. 

The  coachman  scowled  at  him,  and  poked  him 
in  the  back  with  the  stock  of  his  whip,  but  San 


COELEONE  159 

Giacinto  laughed.  Ponza  is  a  small  island  off  the 
Roman,  coast,  used  as  a  penitentiary  and  penal 
settlement. 

"  Did  he  kill  his  man  ?  "  enquired  San  Giacinto, 
coolly. 

"No,  signore,"  said  the  coachman,  quickly.  "He 
only  gave  him  a  salutation  with  the  knife.  It  was 
a  bad  knife,"  he  added,  anxious  for  his  employer's 
reputation.  "  But  for  that  —  the  master  is  a  good 
man !  He  only  got  the  knife  a  little  way  into  the 
other's  throat  —  so  much  —  "  he  marked  the  second 
joint  of  his  middle  finger  with  the  end  of  his 
whip  —  "  and  then  it  would  not  cut,"  he  concluded, 
with  an  apologetic  air. 

"  The  Romans  always  stab  upwards  under  the 
ribs,"  said  San  Giacinto. 

"  One  knows  that ! "  answered  the  man.  "  So  do 
we,  of  course.  But  it  was  only  a  pocket  knife  and 
would  not  have  gone  through  the  clothes,  and  the 
man  was  fat.  That  is  why  the  master  put  it  into 
his  throat." 

Orsino  laughed,  and  San  Giacinto  smiled.  Then 
they  got  into  fche  carriage  and  settled  themselves 
for  the  long  drive.  In  twenty  minutes  they  had 
left  behind  them  the  beautiful  garden  down  by  the 
sea,  and  the  lumbering  vehicle  drawn  by  three 
skinny  horses  was  crawling  up  a  steep  but  well- 
built  road,  on  which  the  yellow  dust  lay  two  inches 
thick.  The  coachman  cracked  his  long  whip  of 


160  CORLEONE 

twisted  cord  with  a  noise  like  a  quick  succession 
of  pistol  shots,  the  lean  animals  kicked  themselves 
uphill,  as  it  were,  the  bells  jingling  spasmodically 
at  each  effort,  and  the  dust  rose  in  thick  puffs  in 
the  windless  air,  under  the  blazing  sun,  uniting  in 
a  long  low  cloud  over  the  road  behind. 

San  Giacinto  smoked  in  silence,  and  Orsino  kept 
his  mouth  shut  and  his  eyes  half  closed  against 
the  suffocating  dust.  After  the  first  half-mile,  the 
horses  settled  down  to  a  straining  walk,  and  the 
coachman  stopped  cracking  his  whip,  sinking  into 
himself,  round-shouldered,  as  southern  coachmen 
do  when  it  is  hot  and  a  hill  is  steep.  From  time 
to  time  he  swore  at  the  skinny  beasts  in  a  sort  of 
patient,  half-contemptuous  way. 

"  May  they  slay  you ! "  he  said.  "  May  your 
vitals  be  torn  out!  May  you  be  blinded!  Curse 
you !  Curse  your  fathers  and  mothers,  and  who- 
ever made  you !  Curse  the  souls  of  your  dead, 
your  double-dead  and  your  extra-dead,  and  the 
souls  of  all  the  horses  that  are  yet  to  be  born ! " 

There  was  a  long  pause  between  each  impreca- 
tion, not  as  though  the  man  were  thinking  over  the 
next,  but  as  if  to  give  the  poor  beasts  time  to 
understand  what  he  said.  It  was  a  kind  of  litany 
of  southern  abuse,  but  uttered  in  a  perfunctory 
and  indifferent  manner,  as  many  litanies  are. 

"Do  you  think  your  horses  are  Christians,  that 
you  revile  them  in  that  way  ? "  asked  Orsino, 


COELEONE  161 

speaking  from  the  back  of  the  carriage,  without 
moving. 

The  mail's  head  turned  upon  his  slouching  shoul- 
ders, and  he  eyed  Orsino  with  curiosity. 

"We  speak  to  them  in  this  manner,"  he  said. 
"  They  understand.  In  your  country,  how  do  you 
speak  to  them  ?  " 

"We  feed  them  better,  and  they  go  faster." 

"Every  country  has  its  customs,"  returned  the 
man,  stolidly.  "It  is  true  that  these  beasts  are 
not  mine.  I  should  feed  them  better,  if  I  had  the 
money.  But  these  animals  consist  of  a  little  straw 
and  water.  This  they  eat,  and  this  they  are.  How 
can  they  draw  a  heavy  carriage  uphill  ?  It  is  a 
miracle.  The  Madonna  attends  to  it.  If  I  beat 
them,  what  do  I  beat  ?  Bones  and  air.  Why 
should  I  fatigue  myself  ?  There  are  their  souls,  so 
I  speak  to  them,  and  they  understand.  Do  you 
see  ?  Now  that  I  talk  with  you,  they  stop." 

He  turned  as  the  carriage  stood  still,  and  ad- 
dressed the  spider-like  animals  again,  in  a  dull, 
monotonous  tone,  that  had  something  business-like 
in  it. 

"  Ugly  beasts  !  May  you  have  apoplexy  !  May 
you  be  eaten  alive  !  "  And  he  went  on  with  a  whole 
string  of  similar  expressions,  till  the  unhappy 
brutes  strained  and  threw  themselves  forward  and 
began  to  kick  themselves  uphill  again  spasmodi- 
cally, as  before. 


162  COR  LEONE 

It  seemed  very  long  before  they  reached  the 
town,  dusty  and  white  under  the  broad  clear  sun, 
and  decidedly  clean;  spotless,  indeed,  compared 
with  a  Neapolitan  or  Calabrian  village.  Here  and 
there  among  the  whitewashed  houses  there  were 
others  built  of  almost  black  tufo,  and  some  with 
old  bits  of  effective  carving  in  a  bastard  style  of 
Xorman-Saraceii  ornament. 

The  equine  spiders  entered  the  town  at  a  jog- 
trot. Orsino  fancied  that  but  for  the  noise  of  the 
bells  and  the  wheels  he  could  have  heard  their 
bones  rattle  as  their  skeleton  legs  swung  under 
them.  They  turned  two  or  three  corners  and 
stopped  suddenly  before  their  stable. 

"This  is  the  master,"  said  the  coachman  as  he 
got  down,  indicating  a  square-built,  bony  man  of 
medium  height  who  stood  before  the  door,  dressed 
in  a  clean  white  shirt  and  a  decent  brown  velveteen 
jacket.  He  had  a  dark  red  carnation  in  his  button- 
hole and  wore  his  soft  black  hat  a  little  on  one 
side. 

In  the  shadow  of  the  street  near  the  door  stood 
five  carabineers  in  their  oddly  old-fashioned  yet 
oddly  imposing  uniforms  and  cocked  hats,  each 
with  a  big  army  revolver  and  a  cartridge  case  at 
his  belt,  and  a  heavy  cavalry  sabre  by  his  side. 
They  were  tall,  quiet-eyed,  sober-looking  men,  and 
they  saluted  San  Giacinto  and  Orsino  gravely, 
while  one,  who  was  the  sergeant,  came  forward, 


COB  LEONE  163 

holding  out  a  note,  which  San  Giacinto  read,  and 
put  into  his  pocket. 

"  I  am  San  Giacinto,"  he  said,  "  and  this  gentle- 
man is  my  cousin,  Don  Orsino  Saracinesca,  who 
goes  with  us." 

"  Shall  we  saddle  at  once,  Signer  Marchese  ? " 
asked  the  sergeant,  and  as  San  Giacinto  assented, 
he  turned  to  his  men  and  gave  the  necessary  order 
in  a  low  voice. 

The  phantom  horses  were  taken  out  of  the  car- 
riage, and  the  two  gentlemen  got  out  to  stretch 
their  legs  while  the  others  were  put  in.  The  cara- 
bineers had  all  disappeared,  their  quarters  and 
stables  being  close  by;  so  near,  indeed,  that  the 
clattering  of  their  big  chargers'  hoofs  and  the 
clanking  of  accoutrements  could  be  plainly  heard. 

"The  master  is  to  drive  us  up  to  Camaldoli," 
observed  Orsino,  lighting  a  cigarette. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  companion.  "  He  is  a  smart- 
looking  fellow,  but  for  my  part  I  prefer  the  other 
man's  face.  Stupidity  is  always  a  necessary  qual- 
ity in  servants.  The  master  looks  to  me  like  a 
type  of  a  '  maffeuso.'  " 

"  With  five  carabineers  at  our  heels,  I  imagine 
that  we  are  pretty  safe." 

"For  to-day,  of  course.  I  was  thinking  of  our 
future  relations.  This  is  the  only  man  who  can 
furnish  carriages  between  Camaldoli  and  the  sta- 
tion. One  is  in  his  power." 


164  CORLEONE 

"Why  should  we  not  have  carriages  and  horses 
of  our  o\vn  '.' ''  asked  Orsino. 

"  It  is  a  useless  expense  at  present,"  answered 
San  Giacinto,  who  never  wasted  money,  though  he 
never  spared  it.  "  We  shall  see.  In  a  day  or  two 
we  shall  find  out  whether  you  can  have  them  at  all. 
If  it  turns  out  to  be  possible,  it  will  be  because  you 
find  yourself  on  good  terms  with  the  people  of 
the  neighbourhood." 

'•And  turn  'maffeuso'  myself,"  suggested  Orsino, 
with  a  laugh. 

"Not  exactly,  but  the  people  may  tolerate  you. 
That  is  the  most  you  can  expect,  and  it  is  much." 

"  And  if  not,  I  am  never  to  move  without  a  squad 
of  carabineers  to  take  care  of  me,  I  suppose." 

"You  had  better  go  armed,  at  all  events,"  said 
San  Giacinto,  quietly.  "  Have  your  revolver  always 
in  your  pocket  and  take  a  rifle  when  you  go  out  of 
the  house.  The  sight  of  firearms  has  a  salutary 
effect  npon  all  these  people." 

The  fresh  horses  had  been  put  in,  very  different 
from  the  Avretched  creatures  that  had  dragged  the 
carriage  up  from  the  station,  for  they  were  lean 
indeed,  but  young  and  active.  San  Giacinto  looked 
at  them  and  remarked  upon  the  fact  as  he  got  in. 

"  Of  course ! "  answered  the  philosophical  coach- 
man; "the  road  is  long  and  you  must  drive  up  as 
high  as  paradise.  Those  old  pianos  could  never 
get  any  higher  than  purgatory." 


COBLEONE  165 

"  Pianos  ?  " 

"  Eli  —  they  have  but  three  legs  each,  arid  they 
are  of  wood,  like  a  piano,"  answered  the  man,  with- 
out a  smile.  "  You  also  heard  the  music  they  made 
with  their  bones,  as  we  came  along." 

The  master  mounted  to  his  seat,  and  at  the  same 
moment  the  carabineers  came  round  the  corner,  al- 
ready in  the  saddle,  each  with  his  canvas  bread-bag 
over  his  shoulder  and  his  rifle  slung  by  his  stirrup. 
They  were  mounted  on  powerful  black  chargers, 
well-fed,  good-tempered  animals,  extremely  well 
kept,  and  evidently  accustomed  to  long  marches. 
The  carabineers,  foot  and  horse,  are  by  far  the 
finest  corps  in  the  Italian  army,  and  are,  indeed, 
one  of  the  finest  and  best  equipped  bodies  of  men 
in  the  world.  They  are  selected  with  the  greatest 
care,  and  every  man  has  to  prove  that  neither  he 
nor  his  father  has  ever  been  in  jail,  even  for  the 
slightest  misdemeanour.  The  troopers  and  the  men 
of  the  foot  corps  rank  as  corporals  of  the  regular 
army,  and  many  of  them  have  been  sergeants.  In 
the  same  way  each  degree  of  rank  is  reckoned  as 
equal  to  the  next  higher  in  the  army,  and  the  whole 
corps  is  commanded  by  a  colonel.  There  are  now 
about  twenty-five  thousand  in  the  whole  country, 
quartered  in  every  town  and  village  in  squads  from 
four  or  five,  to  twenty  or  thirty  strong.  The  whole 
of  Italy  is  patrolled  by  them,  day  and  night,  both 
by  high  roads  and  bridle-paths,  and  on  the  mainland 


166  COIi  LEONE 

they  have  effectually  stamped  out  brigandage  and 
highway  robbery.  But  in  Sicily  they  are  pitted 
against  very  different  odds. 

The  road  rises  rapidly  beyond  Piedimonte,  wind- 
ing up  through  endless  vinelands  to  the  enormous 
yoke  which  unites  Etna  with  the  inland  mountains. 
Orsino  leaned  back  silently  in  his  place,  gazing  at 
the  snow-covered  dome  of  the  volcano,  from  the 
summit  of  which  rose  a  thin  wreath  of  perfectly 
white  smoke.  From  time  to  time  San  Giacinto 
pointed  out  to  his  companion  the  proposed  direction 
of  his  light  railway,  Avhich  was  to  follow  the  same 
general  direction  as  the  carriage  road.  The  coun- 
try, though  still  cultivated,  was  lonely,  and  the 
barren  heights  of  Etna,  visible  always,  gave  the 
landscape  a  singular  character.  To  the  westward 
rose  the  wooded  hills,  stretching  far  away  inland, 
dark  and  mysterious. 

They  halted  again  in  the  high  street  of  a  long, 
clean  village,  called  Linguaglossa,  and  some  of  the 
carabineers  dismounted  and  drank  from  a  fountain, 
being  half  choked  with  the  dust.  The  master  of 
the  vehicle  got  down  and  dived  into  a  quiet-looking 
house,  returning  presently  with  a  big,  painted 
earthenware  jug  full  of  wine,  and  a  couple  of  solid 
glasses,  which  he  filled  and  held  out,  without  a 
word,  to  San  Giacinto  and  Orsino.  The  wine 
was  almost  black,  very  heavy  and  strong.  They 
quenched  their  thirst,  and  then  the  man  swallowed 


CORLEONE  167 

two  glasses  in  succession.  San  Giacinto  held  out 
some  small  change  to  him  to  pay  for  the  drink. 
But  he  laughed  a  little. 

"  One  does  not  pay  for  wine  in  our  country/'  he 
said.  "  They  sell  a  pitcher  like  this  for  three  sous 
at  the  wineshops,  but  this  is  the  house  of  a  very 
rich  signore,  who  makes  at  least  a  thousand  barrels 
every  year.  What  should  one  pay?  One  sou? 
That  is  as  much  as  it  is  worth.  A  man  can  get 
drunk  for  five  sous  here." 

"  I  should  think  so !  It  is  as  strong  as  spirits," 
said  Orsino. 

"  But  the  people  are  very  sober,"  answered  San 
Giacinto.  "  They  have  strong  heads,  too." 

They  were  soon  off  again,  along  the  endless 
road.  Gradually,  the  vinelands  began  to  be  broken 
by  patches  of  arid  ground,  where  dark  stone  cropped 
up,  and  the  dry  soil  seemed  to  produce  nothing  but 
the  poisonous  yellow  spurge. 

It  was  long  past  noon  when  the  dark  walls  and 
the  cathedral  spire  of  Randazzo  came  into  sight. 
They  found  Basili's  house,  and  the  notary,  whose 
daughter  was  already  famous  in  Home,  was  at  work 
in  his  dingy  study,  with  a  sheet  of  governmental 
stamped  paper  before  him.  He  was  a  curious  com- 
pound of  a  provincial  and  a  man  of  law,  with  regular 
features  and  extremely  black  eyebrows,  the  rest  of 
his  hair  being  white.  Orsino  thought  that  he  must 
have  been  handsome  in  his  youth. 


168  COELEONE 

Everything  was  prepared  according  to  the  orders 
San  Giacinto  had  written.  Basili  handed  over  a 
big  bunch  of  keys,  most  of  which  were  rusty,  while 
two  of  them  were  bright,  as  though  they  had  been 
recently  much  used.  He  hardly  spoke  at  all,  but 
looked  at  his  visitors  attentively,  and  with  evident 
curiosity.  He  called  a  man  who  was  in  readiness 
to  go  with  them. 

"  Shall  we  find  anybody  at  the  house  ? "  en- 
quired Orsino. 

"Not  unless  someone  has  been  locked  in,"  was 
the  answer.  "Nevertheless,  it  might  be  safer  not 
to  go  straight  to  the  door,  but  to  get  under  the 
wall,  and  come  up  to  it  in  that  way.  One  never 
knows  what  may  be  behind  a  door  until  it  is  open." 

San  Giacinto  laughed  rather  dryly,  and  Orsino 
looked  hard  at  Basili  to  discover  a  smile. 

"  But,  indeed,"  continued  the  notary,  "  there  are 
too  many  bushes  about  the  house.  If  I  might  be 
so  bold  as  to  offer  my  advice,  I  should  say  that 
you  had  better  cut  down  the  bushes  at  once.  You 
will  have  time  to  begin  this  evening,  for  the  days 
are  long." 

"Are  they  unhealthy?"  enquired  Orsino,  not 
understanding  in  the  least. 

"  Unhealthy  ?  Oh,  no.  But  they  are  convenient 
for  hiding,  and  there  are  people  of  bad  intentions 
everywhere.  I  do  not  speak  of  Don  Ferdinando 
Pagliuca,  believe  me.  But  there  are  persons  of 


CORLEONE  169 

no  conscience,  who  do  not  esteem  life  as  anything. 
But  I  do  not  mean  to  signify  Don  Ferdinando 
Pagliuca,  I  assure  you.  Gentlemen,  I  wish  you 
a  pleasant  journey,  and  every  satisfaction,  and 
the  fulfilment  of  your  desires." 

He  bowed  them  out.  being  evidently  not  inclined 
to  continue  the  conversation,  and  they  drove  on 
again,  the  man  whom  he  had  sent  with  them 
being  beside  the  padrone  on  the  box.  He  had  a 
long  old-fashioned  gun  slung  over  his  shoulder, 
evidently  loaded,  for  there  was  a  percussion  cap 
on  the  nipple  of  the  lock. 

Orsino  thought  Randazzo  a  grim  and  gloomy 
town  in  spite  of  its  beautiful  carved  stone  bal- 
conies and  gates,  and  its  Saracen-Norman  cathe- 
dral, and  he  was  glad  when  they  were  out  in  the 
country  again,  winding  up  through  the  beginning 
of  the  black  lands.  San  Giacinto  looked  about 
him,  and  then  began  to  get  out  one  of  the  Win- 
chesters, without  making  any  remark.  Orsino 
watched  him  as  he  dropped  the  cartridges  one 
by  one  into  the  repeater  and  then  examined  the 
action  again,  to  see  that  all  was  in  working 
order. 

"  You  understand  them,  I  suppose  ? "  he  asked 
of  Orsino. 

"Yes,  of  course." 

"Then  you  had  better  load  the  other,"  said  the 
big  man,  quietly. 


170  COELEONE 

"As  you  please,"  answered  Orsino,  evidently 
considering  the  precaution  superfluous,  and  he  got 
out  the  other  rifle  with  great  deliberation. 

They  were  going  slowly  up  a  steep  hill,  and 
the  carabineers  were  riding  close  behind  them  at 
a  foot  pace.  The  two  gentlemen  could,  of  course, 
not  see  the  road  in  front.  The  padrone  and 
Basili's  man  were  talking  in  a  low  tone  in  the 
Sicilian  dialect. 

Suddenly,  Avith  a  clanging  and  clattering,  two 
of  the  troopers  passed  the  carriage  at  a  full  gallop 
up  the  hill.  The  sergeant  trotted  up  to  San 
Giacinto's  side,  looking  sharply  ahead  of  him. 
Basili's  man  slipped  the  sling  of  his  gun  over 
his  head  in  an  instant,  and  laid  the  weapon 
across  his  knees,  and  Orsino  distinctly  heard  him 
cock  the  old-fashioned  hammer.  San  Giacinto 
still  had  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  he  leaned  out 
over  the  carriage  to  see  what  was  ahead. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  two 
carabineers  charging  up  the  steep  road  at  a 
gallop. 

"There  was  a  man  on  horseback  waiting  at  the 
crest  of  the  hill,"  said  the  sergeant.  "As  soon 
as  he  saw  us  he  wheeled  and  galloped  on.  He  is 
out  of  sight  now.  They  will  not  catch  him,  for 
he  had  a  good  horse." 

"Have  you  had  much  trouble  lately?"  asked 
San  Giacinto. 


CORLEONE  171 

"  They  killed  one  of  my  men  last  week  and  used 
his  uniform  for  a  disguise,"  answered  the  soldier, 
gravely.  "  That  fellow  was  waiting  there  to  warn 
somebody  that  we  were  coming." 

The  troopers  halted  when  they  reached  the  top 
of  the  hill,  looked  about,  and  made  a  sign  to  the 
sergeant,  signifying  that  they  could  not  catch  the 
man.  The  sergeant  answered  by  a  gesture  which 
bade  them  wait. 

"Touch  your  horses,  Tato,"  he  said  to  the 
padrone,  who  had  neither  moved  nor  looked 
round  during  the  excitement,  but  who  immedi- 
ately obeyed. 

The  carriage  moved  quickly  up  the  hill,  till  it 
overtook  the  carabineers.  Then  San  Giacinto  saw 
that  the  road  descended  rapidly  by  a  sharp  curve 
to  the  left,  following  a  spur  of  the  mountain. 
No  one  was  in  sight,  nor  was  there  any  sound  of 
hoofs  in  the  distance.  To  the  right,  below  the 
road,  the  land  was  much  broken,  and  there  was 
shelter  from  sight  for  a  man  and  his  horse  almost 
anywhere  for  a  mile  ahead. 

When  Orsino.  had  finished  loading  the  rifle,  he 
looked  about  him,  and  saw  for  the  first  time 
the  black  lands  of  which  Vittoria  had  spoken, 
realizing  the  truth  of  what  she  had  said  about  the 
possibility  of  a  man  hiding  himself  in  the  fissures 
of  the  lava,  to  fire  upon  a  traveller  in  perfect 
security.  With  such  an  escort  he  and  his  com- 


172  COELEONE 

pan  ion  were  perfectly  safe,  of  course,  but  he  began 
to  understand  what  was  meant  by  the  common 
practice  of  carrying  firearms. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  anything  more  hide- 
ously desolate  and  sombrely  wild  than  the  high 
ground  behind  Mount  Etna.  The  huge  eruptions 
of  former  and  recent  times  have  for  ages  sent  down 
rivers  of  liquid  stone  and  immeasurable  clouds  of 
fine  black  ashes,  which  have  all  hardened  roughly 
into  a  conformation  which  is  rugged  but  not  wholly 
irregular,  for  the  fissures  mostly  follow  the  down- 
ward direction  of  the  slope,  westward  from  the 
volcano.  All  over  the  broad  black  surface  the 
spurge  grows  in  patches  during  the  spring,  and 
somehow  the  vivid  yellow  of  the  flowers  makes  the 
dark  stone  and  hardened  ash  look  still  darker  and 
more  desolate.  Here  and  there,  every  two  or  three 
miles,  there  are  groups  of  deserted  huts  built  of 
black  tufo,  doorless  and  windowless,  and  almost 
always  on  the  edge  of  some  bit  of  arable  land  that 
stretches  westward  between  two  old  lava  beds. 
The  distances  are  so  great  that  the  peasants  move 
out  in  a  body  to  cultivate  these  outlying  fields  at 
certain  times  of  the  year,  and  sleep  in  the  impro- 
vised villages  until  the  work  is  done,  when  they 
go  back  to  the  towns,  leaving  the  crops  to  take  care 
of  themselves  until  harvest  time.  In  the  guerilla 
warfare  which  breaks  out  periodically  between  the 
carabineers  and  the  outlaws,  the  stone  huts  are 


CORLEONE  173 

important  points  of  vantage,  and  once  or  twice 
have  been  the  scene  of  hard-fought  battles.  Being 
of  stone,  though  roughly  built,  and  being  pierced 
with  mere  holes  for  windows,  they  are  easily 
defended  from  within  by  n;c:i  armed  with  repeat- 
ers and  plentiful  ammunition. 

After  the  little  excitement  caused  by  the  pursuit 
of  the  unknown  rider,  two  of  the  troopers  rode 
before  the  carriage,  and  three  followed  it,  while 
all  got  their  rifles  across  their  saddle-bows,  ready 
for  action.  They  knew  well  enough  that  as  long 
as  they  kept  together,  even  a  large  band  of  brig- 
ands would  not  attack  them  011  the  open  road,  but 
there  were  plenty  of  narrow  places  where  the 
earth  was  high  on  each  side,  and  where  a  single 
well-directed  volley  might  easily  have  killed  many 
of  the  party.  Since  the  outlaAvs'  latest  invention 
of  shooting  the  carabineers  in  order  to  disguise 
themselves  in  their  uniforms,  the  troopers  were 
more  than  ever  cautious  and  on  the  alert  against 
a  surprise. 

But  nothing  happened.  The  single  horseman 
had  disappeared  altogether,  having  probably  taken 
to  the  broken  land  for  greater  safety,  and  the  car- 
riage jogged  steadily  on  across  the  high  land, 
towards  its  destination,  with  a  regular  jingling  of 
harness  bells,  and  an  equally  rhythmic  clanking 
of'  sabres. 

"  A  little  quicker,  Tato,"  said  the  sergeant  to  the 


174  CORLEONE 

padrone,  from  time  to  time,  but  no  one  else  said 
anything. 

Both  San  Giacinto  and  Orsino  were  weary  of  the 
long  drive  when,  at  an  abrupt  curve  of  the  road, 
the  horses  slackened  speed,  to  turn  out  of  the  high- 
way, to  the  right. 

"  There  is  Camaldoli,"  said  Tato,  turning  round 
to  speak  to  them  for  the  first  time  since  they  had 
started.  "  You  can  see  the  Druse's  tower  above 
the  trees,  and  the  river  is  below." 

So  far  as  the  two  gentlemen  could  see  there  was 
not  another  habitation  in  sight,  though  it  was  no 
very  great  distance  to  the  village  of  Santa  Vittoria, 
beyond  the  next  spur  of  Etna.  The  ancient  build- 
ing, of  which  only  the  top  of  one  square  black  tower 
appeared,  was  concealed  by  a  dense  mass  of  foliage 
of  every  kind.  Below,  to  the  right  and  towards  the 
mountain  stream  which  Tato  called  a  river,  the  land 
was  covered  with  wild  pear  trees,  their  white  blos- 
soms all  out  and  reflecting  the  lowering  sun.  Nearer 
the  building,  the  pink  bloom  of  the  flowering 
peaches  formed  a  low  cloud  of  exqxiisite  colour,  and 
the  fresh  green  of  the  taller  trees  of  all  kinds  made 
a  feathery  screen  above  and  a  compact  mass  of 
dark  shadow  lower  down.  The  narrow  drive  was 
thickly  hedged  with  quantities  of  sweetbrier  and 
s \veet  hawthorn,  which  increased  as  the  road 
descended,  till  it  filled  everything  up  to  a  man's 
height  and  higher.  The  way  was  so  narrow  that 


COBLEONE  175 

when  the  carabineers  tried  to  ride  on  each  side  of 
the  carriage,  they  found  it  impossible  to  do  so  with- 
out being  driven  into  the  tangle  of  thorns  at.  every 
step.  The  whole  party  moved  forward  at  a  quick 
trot,  'and  Orsino  understood  what  Basili  the  notary 
had  said  about  the  bushes,  so  that  even  he  laid  his 
rifle  across  his  knees  and  peered  into  the  brambles 
from  time  to  time,  half  expecting  to  see  the  muzzle 
of  a  gun  sticking  through  the  green  leaves  and 
white  flowers. 

The  avenue  seemed  to  be  about  half  a  mile  long. 
In  the  middle  of  it  the  trees  were  so  thick  as  to 
make  it  almost  gloomy,  even  in  the  broad  afternoon 
daylight.  The  road  was  rough  and  stony. 

Suddenly  the  horse  of  one  of  the  carabineers 
ahead  stumbled  and  fell  heavily,  and  the  other 
trooper  threw  his  horse  back  on  its  haunches  with 
an  exclamation.  Almost  at  the  same  instant,  the 
sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  rang  through  the  trees  011 
the  right ;  and  the  bullet,  singing  overhead,  cut 
through  the  branches  just  above  the  carriage,  so 
that  a  twig  with  its  leaves  dropped  upon  Orsino's 
knees.  Another  shot,  fired  very  low  down,  struck 
a  spoke  of  one  of  the  carriage  wheels,  and  sent  the 
splinters  flying,  burying  itself  somewhere  in  the 
body  of  the  vehicle.  Another  and  another  followed, 
all  fired  either  far  too  high  or  much  too  low  to 
strike  any  of  the  party.  As  the  shots  all  came  from 
the  same  side,  however,  the  sergeant  of  carabineers 


176  COItLEONE 

sprang  to  the  ground  and  plunged  into  the  brush 
on  that  side,  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  calling  to  his 
men  to  follow  him.  San  Giacinto  stood  up  and 
knelt  on  the  cushion  of  the  carriage,  though  he 
knew  that  he  could  not  fire  in  the  direction  taken 
by  the  carabineers,  lest  he  should  hit  one  of  them 
by  accident. 

"  Keep  a  lookout  on  your  side,  too ! "  he  cried 
to  Orsino.  "Shoot  anybody  you  see,  and  do  not 
miss.  They  may  be  on  both  sides,  but  I  think 
not." 

Strangely  enough,  from  the  moment  the  soldiers 
entered  the  brush,  not  another  shot  was  fired. 
Clearly  the  assailants  were  beating  a  hasty  retreat. 

At  that  moment  something  black  stirred  in  the 
bushes  on  Orsino' s  side.  Instantly  his  rifle  was '  at 
his  shoulder,  and  he  fired.  San  Giacinto  started 
and  turned  round,  bringing  up  his  own  weapon  at 
the  same  time. 

"  I  believe  I  heard  something  fall,"  said  Orsino, 
opening  the  door  of  the  carriage.  Tato  had  disap- 
peared. Basili's  man  had  followed  the  soldiers 
into  the  brush. 

In  an  instant  both  the  gentlemen  were  in  the 
thicket,  Orsino  leading,  as  he  followed  the  direction 
of  his  shot. 


CHAPTER   XI 

OBSINO'S  gloved  hand  trembled  violently  as  lie 
pushed  aside  the  tangle  of  sweetbrier,  trying  to 
reach  the  place  where  the  man  upon  whom  he  had 
fired  had  fallen. 

"Let  me  go  first,"  said  San  Giacinto.  "I  am 
bigger  and  my  gloves  are  thicker." 

But  Orsino  pushed  on,  his  heart  beating  so  hard 
that  he  felt  the  pulse  in  his  throat  and  his  eyes. 
He  had  been  cool  enough  when  the  bullets  had  been 
flying  across  the  carriage,  and  his  hand  had  been 
quife  steady  when  he  had  aimed  at  the  black 
something  moving  stealthily  in  the  bushes.  But 
the  sensation  of  having  killed  a  man,  and  in  such 
a  way,  was  horrible  to  him.  He  pushed  on, 
scratching  his  face  and  his  wrists  above  his 
gloves,  in  the  .sharp  thorns.  The  bushes  were 
more  than  breast  high,  even  to  his  tall  figure, 
but  San  Giacinto  could  see  over  his  head. 

"  There ! "  exclaimed  the  giant,  suddenly. 
"There  he  is  —  to  your  right  —  I  can  see  him!" 

Orsino  pushed  on,  and  in  another  moment  his 
foot  struck  something  hard  that  moved  a  little,  but 
VOL.  i.  — x  177 


178  CORLEONE 

was  not  a  stone.  It  was  the  dead  man's  foot  in  a 
heavy  shooting-boot. 

They  found  him  quite  dead,  not  fallen  to  the 
ground,  but  half  sitting  and  half  lying  in  the 
thorns.  He  had  fallen  straight  backwards,  shot 
through  the  temples.  The  eyes  were  wide  open, 
but  without  light,  the  handsome  face  perfectly 
colourless,  and  the  silky,  brown  moustache  hid 
the  relaxed  mouth.  His  rifle  stood  upright  in  the 
bush  as  it  had  fallen  from  his  hand.  His  soft  hat 
was  still  firmly  planted  on  the  back  of  his  head. 

Orsino  was  stupefied  with  horror  and  stood  quite 
still,  gazing  at  the  dead  man's  face.  San  Giacinto 
looked  down  over  his  shoulders. 

"  He  looks  like  a  gentleman, "  he  said,  in  a  low 
voice. 

The  chill  of  a  terrible  presentiment  froze  about 
Orsino's  heart.  As  he  looked,  the  handsome  feat- 
ures became,  familiar,  all  at  once,  as  though  he 
had  often  seen  them  before. 

"We  had  better  get  him  out  to  the  road,"  said 
San  Giacinto.  "The  carabineers  may  identify 
him.  The  sooner,  the  better,  though  you  were 
perfectly  justified  in  shooting  him." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  Orsino's  shoulder  to  make 
him  move  a  little,  and  the  young  man  started. 
Then  he  bit  his  trembling  lip  and  stooped  to  try 
and  lift  the  body.  As  he  touched  the  velveteen 
coat,  the  head  fell  suddenly  to  one  side,  and 


COE  LEONE  179 

Orsino  uttered  an  involuntary  exclamation.  He 
had  never  moved  a  dead  man  before. 

"It  is  nothing,"  said  San  Giacinto,  quietly. 
"He  is  quite  dead.  Take  his  feet." 

He  pushed  past  Orsino  and  lifted  the  head  and 
shoulders,  beginning  to  move  towards  the  road  at 
once,  walking  backwards  and  breaking  down  the 
bushes  with  his  big  shoulders.  They  got  him  out 
upon  the  road.  The  carriage  horses  were  standing 
quite  still,  with  their  heads  hanging  down,  as 
though  nothing  had  happened.  They  had  plunged 
a  little  at  first.  In  the  road  before  them  stood  the 
trooper  who  had  been  thrown,  holding  his  own  and 
another  charger  by  the  bridle.  The  cause  of  the 
accident  was  clear  enough.  A  pit  had  been 
treacherously  dug  across  the  road  and  covered 
with  sticks  and  wood,  so  as  to  be  invisible.  Fort- 
unately the  horse  had  escaped  injury.  The  others 
were  tethered  by  their  bridles  to  the  back  of 
the  carriage.  In  the  brush,  far  to  the  right,  the 
tall  bushes  were  moving,  showing  where  the  other 
four  carabineers  were  searching  for  the  outlaws 
who  had  fired,  jf,  indeed,  there  had  been  more 
than  one. 

They  laid  the  dead  man  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  on  the  other  side  of  the  ditch,  out  of  reach 
of  the  horses'  feet,  and  the  trooper  watched  them 
without  speaking,  though  with  a  satisfied  look  of 
approval. 


180  COELEONE 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  San  Giacinto, 
addressing  the  soldier. 

"No,  Signer  Marchese.  But  I  have  not  been 
long  on  this  station.  The  brigadiere  will  know 
him,  and  will  be  glad.  I  came  to  take  the  place 
of  the  man  they  killed  last  week." 

Orsino  looked  curiously  at  the  young  carabineer, 
who  took  matters  so  quietly,  when  he  himself  was 
struggling  hard  to  seem  calm.  He  would  not  have 
believed  that  he  could  ever  have  felt  such  inward 
weakness  and  horror  as  filled  him,  and  he  could 
not  trust  himself  to  speak,  yet  he  had  no  reason  to 
doubt  that  he  had  saved  his  own  life  or  San  Gia- 
cinto's  by  firing  in  time. 

"I  see  why  the  other  ones  fired  so  wildly,"  said 
San  Giacinto.  "  They  were  afraid  of  hitting  their 
friend,  who  was  to  do  the  real  work  alone,  while 
they  led  the  carabineers  off  on  a  false  scent  on  the 
other  side.  This  fellow  felt  quite  safe.  He 
thought  he  could  creep  up  to  the  carriage  and 
make  sure  of  us  at  close  quarters.  He  did  not 
expect  that  one  of  us  would  be  on  the  lookout." 

"That  is  a  common  trick,"  said  the  soldier.  "I 
have  seen  it  done  at  Noto.  It  must  have  been  a 
single  person  that  fired,  and  this  man  was  also 
alone.  If  he  had  been  with  a  companion,  the 
gentleman's  shot  would  have  been  answered,  and 
one  of  you  would  have  been  killed." 

"Then  it  was  the  other  man  who  was  waiting 


COR  LEONE  181 

on  horseback  in  the  road  to  warn  this  one  of  our 
coming  ?  " 

"Evidently,  Signer  Marchese." 

Still  Orsino  stood  quite  still,  gazing  down  into 
the  dead  man's  face,  and  feeling  very  unsteady. 
Just  then  nothing  else  seemed  to  have  any  exist- 
ence for  him,  and  he  was  unaware  of  all  outward 
things  excepting  that  one  thing  that  lay  there,  limp 
and  helpless,  killed  by  his  hand  in  the  flash  of  an 
instant.  And  as  he  gazed,  he  fancied  that  the 
young  features  in  their  death  pallor  grew  more 
and  more  familiar,  and  at  his  own  heart  there  was 
a  freezing  and  a  stiffening,  as  though  he  were  turn- 
ing into  ice  from  within. 

The  sergeant  and  the  troopers  came  back,  covered 
with  brambles,  hot  and  grim,  and  empty-handed. 

"Did  any  of  you  fire  that  other  shot? "  he  asked, 
as  soon  as  he  was  in  the  road. 

"  I  did,"  said  Orsino.     "  I  killed  this  man." 

The  sergeant  sprang  forward,  and  his  men 
pressed  after  him  to  see.  The  sergeant  bent 
down  and  examined  the  dead  face  attentively. 
Then  he  looked-  up. 

"You  have  killed  rather  an  important  person," 
he  said  gravely.  "This  is  Ferdinando  Pagliuca. 
We  knew  that  he  was  on  good  terms  with  the  out- 
laws, but  we  could  not  prove  it  against  him." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Tato,  the  padrone,  suddenly 
appearing  again.  "That  is  Don  Ferdinando.  I 


182  CORLEONE 

know  him  very  well,  for  I  have  often  driven  him. 
Who  would  have  thought  it?  " 

Orsino  had  heard  nothing  after  the  sergeant  had 
pronounced  the  name.  He  almost  reeled  against 
San  Giacinto,  and  gripped  the  latter's  arm  des- 
perately, his  face  almost  as  white  as  the  dead 
man's.  Even  San  Giacinto  started  in  surprise. 
Then  Orsino  made  a  great  effort  and  straightened 
himself,  and  walked  away  a  few  paces. 

"This  is  a  bad  business,"  said  San  Giacinto,  in 
a  preoccupied  tone.  "We  shall  have  the  whole 
mafia  against  us  for  this.  Has  the  other  man 
escaped?" 

"Clean  gone,"  said  the  sergeant.  "You  had 
better  luck  than  we,  for  we  never  saw  him.  He 
must  have  fired  his  shots  from  his  horse  and 
bolted  instantly.  We  could  not  have  got  through 
the  brush  with  our  horses." 

Orsino  went  and  leaned  against  the  carriage, 
shading  his  eyes  with  his  hands,  while  San 
Giacinto  and  the  soldiers  talked  over  what  had 
happened.  The  sergeant  set  a  couple  of  men  to 
work%n  the  brambles  with  their  sabres,  to  cut  a 
way  for  the  carriage  on  one  side  of  the  pitfall 
that  covered  the  road. 

"Put  the  body  into  the  carriage,"  said  San  Gia- 
cinto. "  We  can  walk.  It  is  not  far. "  He  roused 
Orsino,  who  seemed  to  be  half  stunned. 

"Come,  my  boy!"  he  said,  drawing  him  away 


COELEONE  183 

from  the  carriage  as  the  soldiers  were  about  to  lay 
the  body  in  it.  "  Of  course  it  is  not  pleasant,  but 
it  cannot  be  helped,  and  you  have  rendered  the 
government  a  service,  though  you  have  got  us  into 
an  awkward  position  with  the  Corleone." 

"Awkward!"  Orsino's  voice  was  hoarse  and 
broken.  "  You  do  not  know !  "  he  added. 

San  Giacinto  did  not  understand,  but  made  him 
fall  back  behind  the  carriage,  which  jolted  horribly 
with  its  dead  occupant,  as  Tato  forced  his  horses 
to  drag  it  round  the  end  of  the  ditch.  The  cara- 
bineers, still  distrustful  of  the  thick  trees  and 
the  underbrush,  carried  their  rifles  and  led  their 
horses,  and  the  whole  party  proceeded  slowly 
along  the  drive  towards  the  ancient  house.  It 
might  have  been  a  quarter  of  a  mile  distant. 
Orsino  walked  the  whole  way  in  silence,  with  bent 
head  and  set  lips. 

They  emerged  upon  a  wide  open  space,  over- 
grown with  grass,  wild  flowers,  and  rank  weeds, 
through  which  a  narrow  path  led  straight  up  to 
the  main  door.  There  had  been  a  carriage  road 
once,  following  a.  wide  curve,  but  it  had  long  been 
disused,  and  even  the  path  was  not  much  trodden, 
and  the  grass  was  beginning  to  grow  in  it. 

The  front  of  the  house  presented  a  broad,  rough- 
plastered  surface,  broken  by  but  few  windows,  all 
of  which  were  high  above  the  ground.  The  tower 
was  not  visible  from  this  side.  From  the  back,  the 


184  CORLEONE 

sound  of  water  came  up  with  a  steady,  low  roar. 
The  door  was,  in  fact,  a  great  oak  gate,  studded 
with  big  rusty  nails,  paintless,  grey,  and  weather- 
beaten.  Kegardless  of  old  Basili's  advice,  San 
Giacinto  walked  straight  up  to  it,  followed  by  the 
notary's  man  with  the  bunch  of  keys. 

The  loneliness  of  it  all  was  beyond  description, 
and  was,  if  possible,  enhanced  by  the  roar  of  the 
water.  The  air  was  damp,  too,  from  the  torrent 
bed,  and  near  one  end  of  the  house  there  were 
great  patches  of  moss.  At  the  other  side,  towards 
the  sun,  the  remains  of  what  had  been  a  vegetable 
garden  were  visible,  rank  broccoli  and  cabbages 
thrusting  up  their  bunches  of  pale  green  leaves, 
broken  trellises  of  cane,  half  fallen  in,  and  over- 
grown with  tomato  vines  and  wild  creeping  plants. 
A  breath  of  air  brought  a  smell  of  rotting  vege- 
tables and  damp  earth  to  San  Giacinto's  nostrils, 
as  he  tried  one  key  after  another  in  the  lock. 

They  got  in  at  last,  and  entered  under  a  gloomy 
archway,  beyond  which  there  was  a  broad  court- 
yard, where  the  grass  grew  between  the  flagstones. 
In  the  middle  was  an  ancient  well,  on  the  right 
a  magnificently  carved  doorway  led  into  the  old 
chapel  of  the  monastery.  On  the  left,  opposite 
the  chapel,  a  long  row  of  windows,  with  closed 
shutters  in  fairly  good  condition,  showed  the  posi- 
tion of  the  habitable  rooms. 

"Is    that   a  church?"    asked   San   Giacinto   of 


COR  LEONE  185 

Basili's  man.  "Take  the  dead  man  in  and  leave 
him  there,"  he  added,  as  the  man  nodded  and 
began  to  look  for  the  key  on  the  bunch. 

They  took  Ferdinando  Pagliuca's  body  from  the 
carriage,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  court- 
yard, and  carried  it  in  and  laid  it  down  on  the 
uppermost  step  of  one  of  the  side  altars,  of  which 
there  were  three.  Orsino  followed  them. 

It  was  a  very  dilapidated  place.  There  had 
once  been  a  few  frescoes,  which  were  falling  from 
the  walls  with  age  and  dampness.  High  up, 
through  the  open  windows  from  which  the  glass 
had  long  since  disappeared,  the  swallows  shot 
in  and  out,  bringing  a  dark  gleam  of  sunshine  on 
their  sharp,  black  wings.  Although  the  outer 
air  had  free  access,  there  was  a  heavy,  death-like 
smell  of  mould  in  the  place.  The  altars  were  dis- 
mantled and  the  grey  dust  lay  thick  upon  them, 
with  fragments  of  plaster  here  and  there.  Only 
on  the  high  altar  a  half-broken  wooden  candle- 
stick, once  silvered,  stood  bending  over,  and  a 
little  glazed  frame  still  contained  a  mouldering 
printed  copy  of  the  Canon  of  the  Mass.  In  the 
middle  of  the  floor  a  round  slab  of  marble,  with 
two  greenish  bolts  of  brass,  bore  the  inscription, 
'Ossa  K,  R.  PP.'  covering  the  pit  wherein  lay 
the  bones  of  the  departed  monks  who  had  once 
dwelt  in  the  monastery. 

The  troopers  laid  Ferdinando's  body  upon  the 


186  COBLEONE 

stone  steps  in  silence,  and  then  went  away,  for 
there  was  much  to  be  done.  Orsiiio  stayed 
behind,  alone,  for  his  cousin  had  not  even  entered 
the  church.  He  knelt  down  for  a  few  moments  on 
the  lowest  step.  It  seemed  a  sort  of  act  of  rever- 
ence to  the  man  whom  he  had  killed.  Mechani- 
cally he  said  a  prayer  for  the  dead. 

But  his  thoughts  were  of  the  living.  The  man 
who  lay  there  was  Vittoria  d'Oriani's  brother,  the 
brother  of  his  future  wife,  qf  the  being  he  held 
most  dear  in  the  world.  Between  him  and  her 
there  was  her  own  blood,  shed  by  his  hand.  The 
shot  had  done  more  than  kill  Ferdiuando  Pagliuca; 
it  had  mortally  wounded  his  own  life. 

He  asked  himself  whether  Vittoria,  or  any 
woman,  could  marry  the  man  who  had  killed  her 
brother.  In  time,  she  might  forgive,  indeed,  but 
she  could  not  forget.  No  one  could.  And  there 
were  her  other  brothers,  and  her  mother,  and  they 
were  Sicilians,  revengeful  and  long  pursuing  in 
their  revenge.  Never,  under  any  imaginable  cir- 
cumstances, would  they  give  their  consent  to  his 
marriage  with  Vittoria,  even  supposing  that  she 
herself,  in  the  course  of  years,  could  blot  out  the 
memory  of  the  dead.  He  might  as  well  make  up 
his  mind  that  she  Avas  lost  to  him. 

But  that  was  hard  to  do,  for  the  roots  of  growing 
love  had  struck  deep  and  burrowed  themselves  in 
under  his  heart  almost  unawares,  from  week  to 


COB  LEONE  187 

week  since  he  had  known  her,  and  to  tear  them 
up  was  to  tear  out  the  heart  itself. 

He  went  to  the  other  side  of  the  dim  chapel  and 
rested  his  dark  forehead  against  the  mouldering 
walls.  It  was  as  though  he  were  going  mad  then 
and  there.  He  drew  himself  up  and  said,  almost 
aloud,  that  he  was  a  man  and  must  act  like  a  man. 
No  one  had  ever  accused  him  of  being  unmanly, 
and  he  could  not  tamely  bear  the  accusation  from 
himself. 

All  the  old  hackneyed  phrases  of  cynical  people 
he  had  known  came  back  to  him.  'Only  one 
woman,  and  the  world  was  full  of  them  '  —  and 
much  to  that  same  effect.  And  all  the  time  he 
knew  that  such  words  could  never  fit  his  lips, 
and  that  though  the  world  was  full  of  women, 
there  was  only  one  for  him,  and  between  her 
and  him  lay  the  barrier  of  her  own  brother's 
blood. 

He  turned  as  he  stood,  and  saw  the  straight, 
dark  figure,  with  its  folded  hands,  lying  on  the 
steps  of  the  altar  opposite  —  the  outward  fact,  as 
his  love  for  Victoria  was  the  inward  truth. 

The  horror  of  it  all  came  over  him  again  like  a 
surging  wave,  roaring  in  his  ears  and  deafening 
him.  It  could  have  been  but  one  degree  worse  if 
Vittoria's  brother  had  been  his  friend,  instead  of 
his  enemy,  and  if  he  had  killed  him  in  anger. 

He  remembered  that  he  had  expected  to  send  his 


188  COELEONE 

mother  a  long  and  reassuring  telegram  on  this  day, 
and  that  he  had  told  Vittoria  that  she  should  go  to 
the  Palazzo  Saracinesca  and  hear  news  of  him. 
There  was  a  telegraph  station  at  Santa  Vittoria, 
three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  Camaldoli,  but  he 
was  confronted  by  the  difficulty  of  sending  any 
clear  message  which  should  not  contain  an  allu- 
sion to  Ferdinando  Pagliuca's  death,  since  the 
carabineers  would  be  obliged  to  report  the  fact 
at  once,  and  it  would  be  in  the  Roman  papers  on 
the  following  morning. 

That  was  a  new  and  terrible  thought.  There 
would  be  the  short  telegraphic  account  of  how 
Don  Orsino  Saracinesca  had  been  attacked  by 
brigands  in  a  narrow  road  and  had  shot  one  of 
the  number,  who  turned  out  to  be  Ferdinando 
Corleone.  Her  mother,  who  always  read  the 
papers,  would  read  that,  too.  Then  her  brothers 
—  then  Vittoria.  And  his  own  mother  would 
see  it  —  his  head  seemed  bursting.  And  there 
lay  the  fact,  the  source  of  these  inevitable  things, 
cold  and  calm,  with  the  death  smile  already  steal- 
ing over  its  white  face. 

San  Giacinto  stalked  in,  looking  about  him,  and 
the  sound  of  his  tread  roused  Orsino. 

"Come,"  he  said,  rather  sternly.  "There  is 
much  to  be  done.  I  could  not  find  you.  The 
man  is  dead;  you  did  right  in  killing  him,  and 
we  must  think  of  our  own  safety." 


CORLEONE  189 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Orsino,  in  a  dull 
voice.  "We  are  safe  enough,  it  seems  to  me." 

"The  sergeant  does  not  seem  to  think  so," 
answered  San  Giacinto.  "Before  night  it  will 
be  known  that  Ferdinando  Pagliuca  is  dead,  and 
we  may  have  half  the  population  of  Santa  Vittoria 
about  our  ears.  Fortunately  this  place  will  stand 
a  siege.  Two  of  the  troopers  have  gone  to  the 
village  to  try  and  get  a  reinforcement,  and  to  bring 
the  doctor  to  report  the  death,  so  that  we  can 
bury  the  man.  Come  —  come  with  me !  We  will 
shut  the  church  up  till  the  doctor  comes,  and  think 
no  more  about  it." 

He  saw  that  Orsino  was  strangely  moved  by 
what  had  happened,  and  he  drew  him  out  into 
the  air.  The  carriage  was  being  unloaded  by 
Tato  and  the  notary's  man,  and  the  horses  had 
all  disappeared.  The  sergeant  and  the  two  remain- 
ing troopers  were  busy  clearing  out  a  big  room 
which  opened  upon  the  court,  with  the  intention 
of  turning  it  into  a  guardroom.  Orsino  looked 
at  them  indifferently.  A  renewed  danger  would 
have  roused  hyii,  but  nothing  else  could.  San 
Giacinto  led  him  away  to  show  him  the  buildings. 

"Your  nerves  have  been  shaken,"  said  the  older 
man.  "  But  you  will  soon  get  over  that.  I  remem- 
ber once  upon  a  time  being  a  good  deal  upset  my- 
self, when  a  man  whom  I  had  caught -in  mischief 
suddenly  killed  himself  almost  in  my  hands." 


190  CORLEONE 

"I  shall  get  over  it,  as  you  say,"  answered 
Orsino.  "Give  me  one  of  those  strong  cigars 
of  yours,  will  you?  " 

He  would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  have  been 
able  to  confide  in  San  Giacinto  and  tell  him  the 
real  trouble.  Had  he  been  sure  that  any  imme- 
diate good  could  come  of  it,  he  would  have  spoken ; 
but  it  seemed  to  him,  on  the  contrary,  that  to 
speak  of  Vittoria  might  make  matters  worse. 
They  wandered  over  the  dark  old  place  for  half 
an  hour.  At  the  back,  over  the  torrent,  there 
was  one  long  wall  with  a  rampart,  terminating 
in  the  evil-looking  Druse's  tower.  The  trees 
grew  thick  over  the  stream,  and  there  was  only 
one  opening  in  the  wall,  closed  by  double  low 
doors  with  heavy  bolts.  The  whole  building  was, 
in  reality,  a  tolerably  strong  fortress,  built  round 
the  four  sides  of  a  single  great  courtyard,  to  which 
there  was  but  one  entrance, —  besides  the  little 
postern  over  the  river. 

"  I  should  like  to  send  a  telegram  to  Rome,"  said 
Orsino,  suddenly.  "  It  is  not  too  late  for  them  to 
get  it  to-night." 

"  You  can  send  it  to  Santa  Vittoria  by  the  doctor, 
when  he  goes  back." 

Orsino  went  down  into  the  court  and  got  a  writ- 
ing-case out  of  his  bag.  It  seemed  convenient  to 
write  on  the  seat  of  the  carriage,  but  just  as  he 
was  going  to  place  his  writing  things  there,  he 


COR  LEONE  191 

saw  that  there  were  dark  wet  spots  on  the  cush- 
ions. He  shuddered  and  turned  away  in  disgust, 
and  wrote  his  message,  leaning  on  the  stone  brink 
of  the  well. 

He  telegraphed  that  San  Giacinto  and  he  had 
arrived  and  were  well,  that  they  had  met  with  an 
attack,  and  that  he  himself  had  killed  a  man. 
But  he  did  not  write  Ferdiuando's  name.  That 
seemed  useless. 

The  doctor  arrived,  and  the  carabineers  brought 
a  couple  of  men  of  the  foot  brigade  to  strengthen 
the  little  garrison.  As  they  entered,  San  Gia- 
cinto saw  that  four  rough-looking  peasants  were 
standing  outside  the  gate,  conversing  and  looking 
up  to  the  windows;  grim,  clean-shaven,  black- 
browed  men  of  the  poorer  class,  for  they  had  no 
guns  and  wore  battered  hats  and  threadbare  blue 
cloaks.  San  Giacinto  handed  the  doctor  over  to  the 
sergeant  and  went  outside  at  once.  The  men  stared 
in  silence  at  the  gigantic  figure  that  faced  them. 
In  his  rough  dark  clothes  and  big  soft  hat,  San 
Giacinto  looked  more  vast  than  ever,  and  his  bold 
and  sombre  features  and  stern  black  eyes  com- 
pleted the  impression  he  made  on  the  hill  men. 
He  looked  as  though  he  might  have  been  the  chief 
of  all  the  outlaws  in  Sicily. 

"  Listen !  "  he  said,  stepping  up  to  them.  "  This 
place  is  mine  now,  for  I  have  bought  it  and  paid 
for  it,  and  I  mean  to  keep  it.  Your  friend  Ferdi- 


192  COR  LEONE 

nando  Pagliuea  is  dead.  After  consenting  to  the 
sale,  he  dug  a  pitfall  in  the  carriage  road  to  stop 
us,  and  he  and  a  friend  of  his  attacked  ns.  We 
shot  him,  and  you  can  go  and  look  at  his  body  in 
the  chapel,  in  there,  if  you  have  curiosity  about 
him.  There  are  eleven  men  of  us  here,  seven 
being  carabineers,  and  we  have  plenty  of  ammu- 
nition, so  that  it  will  not  be  well  for  anyone 
who  troubles  us.  Tell  your  friends  so.  This  is 
going  to  be  a  barrack,  and  there  will  be  a  com- 
pany of  infantry  here  before  long,  and  there  will 
be  a  railway  before  two  years.  Tell  your  friends 
that  also.  I  suppose  you  are  men  from  the 
Camaldoli  farms." 

Two  of  the  peasants  nodded,  but  said  nothing. 

"If  you  want  work,  begin  and  clear  away  those 
bushes.  You  Avill  know  where  there  are  tools. 
Here  is  money,  if  you  will  begin  at  once.  If  you 
do  not  want  money,  say  what  you  do  want.  But 
if  you  want  nothing,  go,  or  I  shall  shoot  you." 

He  suddenly  had  a  big  army  revolver  in  one 
hand,  and  he  pulled  out  a  loose  bank  note  with 
the  other. 

"But  I  prefer  that  we  should  be  good  friends," 
he  concluded,  "for  I  have  much  work  for  every- 
body, and  plenty  of  money  to  pay  for  it." 

The  men  were  not  cowards,  but  they  were  taken 
unawares  by  San  Giacinto's  singular  speech.  They 
looked  at  each  other,  and  at  the  bushes.  One  of 


CORLEONE  193 

them  threw  his  head  back  a  little,  thrusting  out 
his  chin,  which  signifies  a  negation.  The  shortest 
of  the  four,  a  broad-shouldered,  tough-looking  fel- 
low stepped  before  the  rest. 

"We  will  work  for  you,  but  we  will  not  cut 
down  the  bushes.  We  will  do  any  other  work 
than  that.  You  will  not  find  anybody  here  who 
will  cut  down  the  bushes." 

"Why  not?"  asked  San  Giacinto. 

"  Eh  —  it  is  so, "  said  the  man,  with  a  peculiar 
expression. 

The  other  three  shrugged  their  shoulders  and 
nodded  silently,  but  kept  their  eyes  on  San  Gia- 
cinto's  revolver. 

"We  are  good  people,"  continued  the  man. 
"We  wish  to  be  friends  with  everyone,  and 
since  you  have  bought  the  estate,  and  own  the 
land  on  which  we  live,  we  shall  pay  our  rent, 
when  we  have  anything  wherewith  to  pay,  and 
when  we  have  not,  God  will  provide.  But  as 
for  the  bushes,  we  cannot  cut  them  down.  We 
wish  to  be  friends  with  everyone.  But  as  for 
that,  signore,  if  you  have  no  axes  nor  hedging 
knives,  we  have*  them.  We  will  bring  them,  and 
then  we  will  go  away  and  do  any  other  work  for 
you.  Thus  we  shall  not  cut  down  the  bushes,  but 
perhaps  the  bushes  will  be  cut  down." 

San    Giacinto    laughed    a    little,    and   the    big 
revolver  went  back  into  his  pocket. 
VOL.  i.  — o 


194  CORLEONE 

"I  see  that  we  shall  be  friends,  then,"  he  said. 
"When  you  have  brought  the  hatchets,  then  you 
can  come  inside  and  help  to  clean  the  house. 
Then  I  will  give  you  this  money  for  your  work 
this  evening  and  to-morrow." 

The  men  spoke  rapidly  together  in  dialect,  so 
that  San  Giacinto  could  not  understand  them. 
Then  the  spokesman  addressed  him  again. 

"Signore,"  he  said,  "we  will  bring  the  hatchets 
to  the  door,  but  it  is  late  to  clean  the  house  this 
evening.  We  do  not  want  the  money  to-night. 
We  will  return  in  the  morning  and  work  for 
you." 

"There  are  three  hours  of  daylight  yet,"  ob- 
served San  Giacinto.  "  You  could  do  something  in 
that  time,  I  should  think." 

"An  hour  and  a  half,"  replied  the  man.  "It  is 
late,"  he  added.  "It  is  very  late." 

The  other  three  nodded.  San  Giacinto  under- 
stood perfectly  that  there  was  some  other  reason, 
but  did  not  insist.  He  fancied  that  they  were  sus- 
picious of  his  own  intentions  with  regard  to  them, 
and  he  let  them  go  without  further  words. 

As  he  turned  back,  the  village  doctor  appeared 
under  the  arch,  leading  his  mule.  He  was  a  pale 
young  fellow  from  Messina,  who  had  been  three  or 
four  years  at  Santa  Vittoria.  San  Giacinto  offered 
him  an  escort  back  to  the  village,  but  he  refused. 

"If  I  could  not  go  about  alone,  my  usefulness 


COR  LEONE  195 

would  be  over,"  he  said.  "It  is  quite  safe  now. 
They  will  probably  kill  me  the  next  time  there 
is  a  cholera  season." 

"Why?" 

"  They  are  convinced  that  the  government  sends 
them  the  cholera  through  the  doctors,  to  thin  the 
population,"  answered  the  young  man,  with  a 
dreary  smile. 

"What  a  country!     It  is  worse  than  Naples." 

"In  some  ways,  far  worse.  In  others,  much 
better." 

'•In  what  way  is  it  better?"  asked  San  Gia- 
cinto,  with  some  curiosity. 

"They  are  terrible  enemies,"  said  the  doctor, 
"but  they  can  be  very  devoted  friends,  too." 

"Oh  —  we  have  had  a  taste  of  their  enmity  first. 
I  hope  we  may  see  something  of  their  friendship 
before  long." 

"I  doubt  it,  Signer  Marchese.  You  will  have 
the  people  against  you  from  first  to  last,  and  your 
position  is  dangerous.  Ferdinando  Corleone  was 
popular,  and  he  had  the  outlaws  on  his  side.  I 
have  no  doubt  ttat  many  of  the  band  have  been 
hidden  here.  It  is  a  lonely  and  desolate  house, 
full  of  queer  hiding-places.  By  the  bye,  are  you 
going  to  bury  that  poor  man  here?  Shall  I  send 
people  down  from  Santa  Vittoria  Avith  a  coffin,  to 
carry  him  up  to  the  cemetery  ?  " 

"You    know   the   country.      What   should  you 


196  CORLEONE 

advise  me  to  do?      We  must  give  him  Christian 
burial,  I  suppose." 

"I  should  be  inclined  to  lift  up  the  slab  in 
the  church  and  quietly  drop  him  down  among 
the  monks,"  said  the  doctor.  "That  would  be 
Christian  burial  enough  for  him.  But  you  had 
better  consult  the  sergeant  about  it.  If  he  is  taken 
up  to  Santa  Vittoria,  there  will  be  a  great  public 
funeral,  and  all  the  population  will  follow,  as 
though  he  were  a  martyr.  If  you  bury  him  with- 
out a  priest,  they  will  say  that  you  not  only 
murdered  him  treacherously,  but  got  rid  of  his 
body  by  stealth.  Consult  the  sergeant,  Signer 
Marchese.  That  is  best." 

The  doctor  mounted  his  mule  and  rode  away. 
San  Giacinto  closed  and  barred  the  great  gate 
himself  before  he  went  back  into  the  court.  He 
found  Orsino  in  the  midst  of  a  discussion  with 
the  sergeant,  regarding  the  same  question  of  the 
disposal  of  the  body. 

"  I  know  his  family,"  Orsino  was  saying.  "  Some 
of  them  are  friends  of  mine.  He  must  be  decently 
buried  by  a  priest.  I  insist  upon  it." 

The  sergeant  repeated  what  the  doctor  had  said, 
namely,  that  a  public  funeral  would  produce  some- 
thing like  a  popular  demonstration. 

"I  should  not  care  if  it  produced  a  revolution," 
answered  Orsino.  "I  killed  the  man  like  a  dog, 
not  knowing  who  he  was,  but  I  will  not  have  him 


COB  LEONE  197 

buried  like  one.  If  you  are  afraid  of  the  village, 
let  them  send  their  priest  down  here,  dig  a  grave 
under  the  floor  of  the  church,  and  bury  him  there. 
But  he  shall  not  be  dropped  into  a  hole  like  a  dead 
rat  without  a  blessing.  Besides,  it  is  not  legal  — 
there  are  all  sorts  of  severe  regulations  —  " 

"There  is  one  against  burying  anyone  within  a 
church,"  observed  the  sergeant.  "But  the  worst 
that  could  happen  would  be  that  you  might  have 
to  pay  a  fine.  It  shall  be  as  you  please,  signore. 
In  the  morning  we  will  get  a  priest  and  a  coffin, 
and  bury  him  under  the  church.  I  have  the 
doctor's  certificate  in  my  pocket." 

Orsino  was  satisfied,  and  went  away  to  be  alone 
again,  not  caring  where.  But  San  Giacinto  and 
the  carabineers  proceeded  to  turn  the  great  court 
into  something  like  a  camp.  There  were  all  sorts 
of  offices,  kitchens,  bake-houses,  oil-presses,  and 
storerooms,  which  opened  directly  upon  the  paved 
space.  The  men  collected  old  wood  and  kindling 
stuff  to  make  a  fire,  and  prepared  to  cook  some  of 
the  provisions  which  San  Giacinto  had  brought 
for  the  night,  ivhile  he  and  the  sergeant  deter- 
mined on  the  best  positions  for  sentries. 

Orsino  wandered  about  the  great  rooms  upstairs. 
They  were  half  dismantled  and  much  dilapidated, 
but  not  altogether  unfurnished.  Ferdinando  had 
retired  some  days  previously  to  the  village  and 
had  taken  what  he  needed  for  his  own  use,  but 


198  COR  LEONE 

had  left  the  rest.  There  was  a  tolerably  fur- 
nished room  immediately  above  the  great  gate. 
Orsino  opened  the  window  wide,  and  leaned  out, 
breathing  the  outer  air  with  a  certain  sense  of 
relief  from  oppression.  Watching  the  swallows 
that  darted  down  from  under  the  eaves  to  the 
weed-grown  lawn,  and  up  again  with  meteor 
speed,  and  catching  in  his  face  the  last  reflexions 
of  the  sun,  which  was  sinking  fast  between  two 
distant  hills,  he  could  almost  believe  that  it  had 
all  been  a  bad  dream.  He  could  at  least  try  to 
believe  it  for  a  little  while. 

But  the  sun  went  down  quickly,  though  it  still 
blazed  full  on  the  enormous  snowy  dome  of  Etna, 
opposite  the  window;  and  the  chill  of  evening 
came  on  while  it  was  yet  day,  and  with  it  came 
back  the  memory  of  the  coldly  smiling,  handsome 
face  of  dead  Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  and  the  terrible 
suggestion  of  a  likeness  to  Vittoria,  which  had 
struck  at  Orsino's  heart  when  he  had  found  him  in 
the  bushes,  shot  through  the  head.  It  all  came 
back  with  a  sudden,  drowning  rush  that  was  over- 
whelming. He  turned  from  the  window,  and,  to 
occupy  himself,  he  went  and  got  his  belongings 
and  tried  to  make  the  room  habitable.  He  knew 
that  it  was  in  a  good  position  for  the  night,  since 
it  was  not  likely  that  he  should  sleep  much,  and  he 
could  watch  the  gate  from  the  window,  for  his 
share  of  the  defence. 


CHAPTER   XII 

As  was  perhaps  to  be  expected,  considering  the 
precautions  taken,  the  friends  of  Ferdinando  Pa- 
gliuca  gave  no  sign  during  the  night.  The  cara- 
bineers, when  they  are  actually  present  anywhere, 
impose  respect,  though  their  existence  is  forgotten 
as  soon  as  they  are  obliged  to  move  on. 

Orsino  lay  down  upon  a  dusty  mattress  in  the 
room  he  had  chosen.  He  had  been  down  to  the 
court  again,  where  San  Giacinto  ate  his  supper 
from  the  soldiers'  improvised  kitchen,  by  the 
light  of  a  fire  of  brush  and  scraps  of  broken 
wood,  which  one  of  the  men  replenished  from 
time  to  time.  But  Orsino  was  not  hungry,  and 
presently  he  had  gone  upstairs  again.  About  the 
middle  of  the  night,  San  Giacinto,  carrying  a  lan- 
tern, opened  his  door,  and  found  him  reading  by 
the  light  of  a -solitary  candle. 

"  Has  all  been  quiet  on  this  side  ? "  asked  the 
big  man. 

"  All  quiet,"  answered  Orsino. 

San  Giacinto  nodded,  shut  the  door,  and  went 
off,  knowing  that  the  young  man  would  rather  be 
alone.  An  hour  later,  Orsino's  book  dropped  from 
199 


200  COELEONE 

his  hand,  and  he  dozed  a  little,  in  a  broken  way. 
Outside,  the  waning  moon  had  risen  high  above 
the  shoulders  of  Etna,  not  a  breath  was  stirring, 
and  only  the  distant  roar  of  the  water  caine 
steadily  up  from  the  other  side  of  the  old  monas- 
tery. Orsino  dreamed  strange,  shapeless  dreams 
of  vast  desolateness  and  empty  darkness,  in  which 
he  had  no  perception  by  sight,  and  heard  only 
the  unbroken  rush  of  water  far  away.  Then,  in 
the  extreme  blackness  of  nothing,  a  dead  face 
appeared,  with  wide  and  sightless  eyes  that  stared 
at  him,  and  he  woke  and  turned  upon  his  side 
with  a  shudder,  to  doze  again,  and  dream  again, 
and  wake  again.  It  was  a  horrible  night. 

Towards  morning  the  dream  changed.  In  the 
darkness,  together  with  the  sub-bass  of  the  torrent, 
a  voice  came  to  him,  in  a  low,  long-drawn  lamenta- 
tion. It  was  Vittoria's  voice,  and  yet  unlike  hers. 
He  could  hear  the  words: 

"Me  1'  hanno  ammazzato!  Me  1'  hanno  ammaz- 
zato ! " 

It  was  Vittoria  d'Oriani  wailing  over  her  brother's 
body.  Orsiuo  heard  the  words  and  the  voice  dis- 
tinctly. She  was  outside  his  door.  She  had  dragged 
the  corpse  up  from  the  church  in  the  dark,  all  the 
long,  winding  way,  to  bring  it  to  him  and  reproach 
him,  and  to  weep  over  it.  He  refused  to  allow 
himself  to  awake,  as  one  sometimes  can  in  a 
dream,  for  he  knew,  somehow,  that  he  was  not 


CORLEONE  201 

altogether  dreaming.  There  was  an  element  of 
reality  in  the  two  sounds  of  the  river  and  the 
voice,  interfering  with  each  other,  and  the  voice 
came  irregularly,  always  repeating  the  same  words, 
but  the  river  roared  on  without  a  break.  Then 
there  was  a  sound  of  moaning  without  words,  and 
then  the  words  began  again,  always  the  same. 

Orsino  started  and  sat  up,  wide  awake.  He  was 
sure  that  he  was  awake  now,  for  he  could  see  that 
the  light  outside  the  window  was  grey.  The  dawn 
was  beginning  to  drink  the  moonlight  out  of  the 
air.  He  heard  the  voice  distinctly. 

"  Me  F  hanno  ammazzato ! "  it  moaned,  but  much 
less  loudly  than  he  had  heard  it  in  his  dream. 
"They  have  killed  him  for  me,"  is  the  meaning 
of  the  words. 

Orsino  sprang  from  the  bed,  and  opened  the 
door,  which  was  opposite  the  window.  The  long 
corridor  was  dark  and  quiet,  and  he  turned  back 
and  opened  the  casement,  and  looked  out. 

The  words  were  half  spoken  again,  but  suddenly 
ceased  as  he  threw  the  window  open.  In  the 
dim  grey  dawnjie  saw  a  muffled  figure  crouching 
on  the  stones  by  the  gate,  slowly  swaying  forwards 
and  backwards.  The  wail  began  again,  very  soft 
and  low,  and  as  though  the  woman  half  feared 
to  be  heard  and  yet  could  not  control  herself. 

Orsino  watched  her  intently  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  understood.  It  was  some  woman  who 


202  COELEONE 

had  loved  Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  and  who  came  in 
the  simple  old  way  to  mourn  at  the  door  of  the 
house  wherein  he  lay  dead.  Her  head  was  covered 
with  a  black  shawl,  and  her  skirts  were  black,  too, 
but  her  hands  were  clasped  about  her  knees,  and 
visible,  and  looked  white  in  the  dawn. 

The  young  man  drew  back  softly  from  the 
windo\v,  and  sat  down  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
He,  of  all  men,  had  no  right  to  silence  the  woman. 
She  did  no  harm,  wailing  for  the  dead  man  out 
there  in  the  cold  dawn.  She  was  not  the  only 
one  who  was  to  mourn  him  on  that  day.  In.  a 
few  hours  his  sister  would  know,  his  mother,  his 
brothers,  and  all  the  world  besides,  though  the  rest 
of  the  world  mattered  little  enough  to  Orsino. 
But  this  woman's  grief  was  a  sort  of  foretaste  of 
Vittoria's.  She  was  but  a  peasant  woman,  per- 
haps, or  at  most  a  girl  of  the  small  farmers'  class, 
but  she  had  loved  him,  and  would  hate  for  ever 
the  man  who  had  killed  him.  How  much  more 
should  the  slayer  be  hated  by  the  dead  man's 
own  flesh  and  blood! 

The  light  grew  less  grey  by  quick  degrees,  and 
there  were  heavy  footsteps  in  the  corridor.  Then 
came  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  trooper  appeared 
in  his  forage  cap. 

"  We  have  made  the  coffee,  signore,"  he  said,  on 
the  threshold. 

He  held  out  a  bright  tin  pannikin  from  which 


COELEONE  203 

the  steam  rose  in  fragrant  clouds.  The  physical 
impression  of  the  aromatic  smell  was  the  first 
pleasant  sensation  which  Orsino  had  experienced 
since  he  had  pulled  the  trigger  of  his  rifle  on  the 
previous  afternoon.  If  we  could  but  look  at  things 
as  they  are,  we  should  see  that  there  is  neither  love 
nor  hate,  neither  joy  nor  grief,  nor  hope  nor  fear, 
that  will  not  at  last  efface  itself  for  a  moment 
before  hunger  and  thirst;  so  effectually  can  this 
dying  body  mask  and  screen  the  undying  essence. 

Orsino  drank  the  hot  coffee  with  keen  physical 
delight,  though  the  woman's  wailing  came  up  to 
his  ears  through  the  open  window,  and  though  he 
had  known  a  moment  earlier  that  the  stealing 
dawn  was  the  beginning  of  a  day  which  might 
end  in  a  broken  heart. 

But  the  trooper  heard  the  voice,  and  went  to  the 
window  and  looked  out,  while  Orsino  drank. 

"  Ho,  there ! "  he  cried  roughly.  "  Will  you  go 
or  not  ?  "  He  turned  to  Orsino.  "  She  has  been 
there  since  two  o'clock,"  he  explained.  "  We  heard 
her  through  the  closed  gate." 

"Let  her  alone,"  said  Orsino,  authoritatively. 
"  She  is  only  a  woman,  and  can  do  no  harm ;  and 
she  has  a  right  to  her  mourning,  God  knows." 

"There  will  be  a  hundred  before  the  sun  has 
been  up  an  hour,  signore,"  answered  the  soldier. 
"The  people  will  collect  about  her,  for  they  will 
come  out  of  curiosity,  from  many  miles  away.  It 


204  CORLEONE 

will  be  better  to  get  rid  of  them  as  fast  as  they 
come." 

"  You  might  let  that  poor  woman  in,"  suggested 
Orsino.  "After  all,  I  have  killed  her  lover  —  she 
has  a  right  to  see  his  body." 

"As  you  wish,  signore,"  answered  the  trooper, 
taking  the  empty  pannikin. 

Orsino  got  up  and  looked  out  again,  as  the  man 
went  away.  The  girl  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and 
stood  looking  up  to  the  window.  Her  shawl  had 
fallen  back  upon  her  shoulders,  and  disclosed  a 
young  and  dishevelled  but  beautiful  head,  of  the 
Greek  type,  though  the  eyes  were  somewhat  long 
and  almond-shaped.  There  was  no  colour  in  the 
olive-pale  cheeks,  and  little  in  the  parted  lips; 
and  the  hand  that  gathered  the  shawl  to  the  bosom 
was  singularly  white.  The  regular  features  were 
set  in  a  tragic  mask  of  grief,  such  as  one  very 
rarely  sees  in  the  modern  world. 

When  she  saw  Orsino,  she  suddenly  raised  both 
hands  to  him.  like  a  suppliant  of  old. 

"They  have  killed  him!"  she  cried.  "They 
have  killed  my  bridegroom !  Let  me  see  him !  let 
me  kiss  him !  Are  they  Christians,  and  will  not 
let  me  see  him  ?  " 

"  You  shall  see  him,"  answered  Orsino.  "  I  will 
let  you  in  myself." 

"  God  will  render  it  to  you,  signore.  And  God 
will  render  also  to  his  murderer  a  bad  death." 


CORLEONE  205 

She  sat  down  upon  the  stones,  thinking,  perhaps, 
that  it  would  be  long  before  the  gate  was  opened; 
and  she  began  her  low  moan  again. 

"  They  have  killed  him !  They  have  murdered 
him ! " 

But  Orsino  had  already  left  the  window  and  the 
room.  He  had  understood  clearly  from  her  words 
and  face  that  she  was  no  light  creature,  for  whom 
Ferdinando  had  conceived  a  passing  fancy.  He 
had  meant  to  marry  her,  perhaps  within  a  few 
days.  There  was  in  her  face  the  high  stamp  of 
innocence,  and  her  voice  rang  fearless  and  true. 
Ferdinando  had  never  been  like  his  brothers.  He 
had  meant  to  marry  this  girl,  doubtless  a  small 
farmer's  daughter,  from  her  dress;  and  he  would 
have  lived  happily  with  her,  sinking,  perhaps,  to 
a  low(,r  social  level,  but  morally  rising  far  higher 
than  his  scheming  brothers.  Orsino  had  guessed 
from  his  dead  face,  and  from  what  he  had  heard, 
that  Ferdinando  had  been  the  best  of  the  family ; 
and  in  a  semi-barbarous  country  like  the  interior 
of  Sicily,  the  young  Roman  did  not  blame  him 
overmuch  for  having  tried  to  resist  the  new  owners 
of  his  father's  house  when  they  came  to  take 
possession. 

San  Giacinto  and  the  sergeant  objected  on  prin- 
ciple to  admitting  the  girl,  but  Orsino  insisted,  and 
at  last  opened  the  gate  himself.  She  had  covered 
her  head  and  face  again,  and  followed  him  swiftly 


206  COELEONE 

and  noiselessly  across  the  court  to  the  door  of  the 
church.  As  though  by  instinct  she  turned  directly 
to  her  lover's  body,  where  it  lay  before  the  side 
altar,  and  with  a  low  wail  like  a  wounded  animal, 
she  fell  beside  it,  with  clasped  hands.  Orsino  left 
her  there  alone,  closing  the  door  softly,  and  came 
out  into  the  court,  where  it  was  almost  broad  day- 
light. The  men  had  drunk  their  coffee  and  were 
grooming  their  black  chargers  tethered  to  rusty 
rings  in  the  wall.  The  old  stables  were  between 
the  court  and  the  rampart.  The  two  foot-cara- 
bineers were  despatched  to  Santa  Vittoria  to  get  a 
coffin  for  the  dead  man  and  a  priest  to  come  and 
bury  him. 

From  the  church  came  every  now  and  then  the 
piteous  echo  of  the  girl's  lamentations.  Then 
there  was  a  knocking  at  the  gate,  and  someone 
called  from  without.  One  of  the  troopers  looked 
out  through  the  narrow  slit  in  the  stone,  made 
just  wide  enough  to  let  the  barrel  of  a  gun  pass. 
Half  a  dozen  peasants  were  outside,  and  the  sol- 
diers could  see  two  more  coming  down  the  drive 
towards  the  house.  He  asked  what  they  wanted. 

"  We  wish  to  speak  with  the  master,"  said  one, 
and  two  or  three  repeated  the  words. 

They  were  the  men  who  had  brought  the  tools 
on  the  previous  evening,  with  a  number  of  others, 
the  small  tenants  of  the  little  estate.  San  Giacinto 
went  and  spoke  with  them,  assuring  them  that  he 


COELEONE  207 

would  be  a  better  landlord  than  they  had  ever  had, 
if  they  would  treat  him  well,  but  that  if  he  met 
with  any  treachery,  he  would  send  every  man  of 
them  to  the  galleys  for  life.  It  was  his  Avay  of 
making  acquaintance,  and  they  seemed  to  under- 
stand it. 

While  he  was  speaking  a  number  of  men  and 
women  appeared  in  the  drive,  headed  by  the  two 
soldiers  who  had  gone  to  the  village.  Close  behind 
them,  swaying  with  the  walk  of  the  woman  who 
carried  the  load  upon  her  head,  a  white  deal  coffin 
caught  the  morning  light.  Then  more  people, 
and  always  more,  came  in  sight,  up  the  drive. 
Amongst  them  walked  a  young  priest  in  his  short 
white  'cotta'  over  his  shabby  cassock,  and  beside 
him  came  a  big  boy  bearing  a  silver  basin  with 
holy  water,  and  the  little  broom  for  sprinkling  it. 
The  two  trudged  along  in  a  business-like  way,  and 
all  the  people  were  talking  loudly.  It  seemed  to 
San  Giacinto  that  half  the  population  of  the  vil- 
lage must  have  turned  out.  He  stepped  back  and 
called  to  the  troopers  to  keep  the  gate,  and  prevent 
the  crowd  from  entering.  Then  he  waited  outside. 
The  people  became  silent  as  they  came  near,  and 
he  looked  at  them,  scrutinizing  their  faces.  Some 
of  the  men  had  their  guns  slung  over  their  shoul- 
ders, but  many  were  only  labourers  and  had  none. 

Many  scowling  glances  were  turned  on  San 
Giacinto  as  the  crowd  came  up  to  the  gate,  and 


208  CORLEONE 

he  began  to  anticipate  trouble  of  some  sort.  The 
troopers  had  their  rifles  in  their  hands  as  they 
formed  up  behind  him.  The  tenants  of  Camaldoli 
mixed  with  the  crowd,  evidently  not  wishing  to 
identify  themselves  with  their  new  landlord. 

"What  do  you  want ?  "  asked  San  Giacinto,  in  a 
harsh,  commanding  voice. 

The  priest  came  close  to  him,  and  bowed  and 
smiled,  as  though  the  occasion  of  meeting  were  a 
pleasant  one.  Then  he  stood  aside  a  little,  and 
a  strapping  woman  who  carried  the  coffin  on 
her  head  marched  in  under  the  gate  between  the 
soldiers,  who  made  way  for  her.  And  behind  her 
came  her  husband,  a  crooked  little  carpenter,  carry- 
ing a  leathern  bag  from  which  protruded  the  worn 
and  blackened  handle  of  a  big  hammer.  The  third 
comer  was  stopped  by  the  sergeant.  He  was  a 
ghastly  pale  old  man,  with  a  three-days  beard  on 
his  pointed  chin,  and  he  was  dressed  in  dingy 
black. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  the  sergeant,  sharply. 

"  I  am  one  without  whom  people  are  not  buried," 
answered  the  old  man,  in  a  cracked  voice.  "  You 
have  a  carpenter  and  a  priest,  but  there  is  a  third 
—  I  am  he,  the  servant  of  the  dead,  who  give  no 
orders." 

The  sergeant  understood  that  the  man  was  the 
parish  undertaker,  and  let  him  pass  also.  Mean- 
while San  Giacinto  repeated  his  question. 


COKLEONE  209 

"  What  do  you  all  want  ? "  he  asked  in  a  thun- 
dering tone,  for  he  was  annoyed. 

"  If  it  please  you,  Signer  Marchese,"  said  the 
priest,  "  these,  my  parishioners,  desire  the  body  of 
Don  Ferdinando  Corleone,  in  order  to  bury  it  in 
holy  ground,  for  he  was  beloved  of  many.  Pray 
do  not  be  angry,  Excellency,  for  they  come  in  peace, 
having  heard  that  Don  Ferdinando  had  been  killed 
by  an  accident.  Grant  their  request,  which  is  a 
proper  one,  and  they  shall  depart  quickly.  I  answer 
for  them." 

As  he  spoke  the  last  words  in  a  tone  which  all 
could  hear,  he  turned  to  the  crowd,  as  though  for 
their  assent. 

"  He  answers  for  us,"  said  many  of  them,  in  a 
breath.  "  Good,  Don  Niccola !  You  answer  for 
us.  We  are  Christians.  We  wish  to  bury  Don 
Ferdinando  properly." 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  objection,"  said  San 
Giacinto.  "On  the  contrary,  I  respect  your  wish, 
and  I  only  regret  that  I  have  not  the  means  of 
doing  more  honour  to  your  friend.  You  must  at- 
tend to  that.  Be  kind  enough  to  wait  here  while 
the  priest  blesses  the  body." 

The  priest  and  the  boy  with  the  holy  water 
passed  in,  and  the  gate  closed  upon  the  crowd. 
While  they  had  been  talking,  the  carpenter  and 
his  wife  had  entered  the  court.  Basili's  man  led 
them  to  the  door  of  the  church  and  opened  it.  The 

VOL.   1. P 


210  CORLEONE 

woman  marched  in  with  her  swinging  stride,  and 
one  hand  on  her  hips,  while  the  other  steadied  the 
deal  coffin. 

"  Where  is  he  ? "  she  asked  in  a  loud,  good- 
natured  .voice,  for  the  church  seemed  very  dark 
after  the  morning  light  outside. 

She  was  answered  by  a  low  cry  from  the  steps  of 
the  side  altar,  where  the  unhappy  girl  lay  half 
across  her  lover's  body,  looking  round  towards  the 
door,  in  a  new  horror. 

The  woman  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
and  then  slowly  swung  her  burden  round  so  that 
she  could  see  her  husband. 

"  Help  me,  Ciccio,"  she  said,  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  way.  "  They  are  always  inconvenient  things." 

The  man  held  up  his  hands  and  took  the  foot, 
while  his  wife  raised  her  hands  also  and  shifted 
the  weight  towards  him  little  by  little,  until  she 
got  hold  of  the  head.  The  loose  lid  rattled  as  they 
set  the  thing  down  on  the  floor.  Then  the  woman 
took  the  rolled  towel  on  which  she  had  carried  the 
weight,  from  her  head,  undid  it,  wiped  her  brow 
with  it,  and  looked  at  the  girl  in  some  perplexity. 

"  It  is  the  apothecary's  Concetta,"  she  said,  sud- 
denly recognizing  the  white  features  in  the  gloom. 
"  Oh,  poor  child  !  Poor  child !  "  she  cried,  going 
forward  quickly,  while  her  husband  took  the  lid 
from  the  coffin  and  began  to  fumble  in  his  leathern 
bag  for  his  nails. 


COBLEONE  211 

As  the  woman  approached  the  step,  Concetta 
threw  her  arms  wildly  over  her  head,  stiffened  her 
limbs  straight  out,  and  rolled  over  and  over  upon 
the  damp  pavement,  in  one  of  those  strange  fainting 
fits  which  sometimes  seize  women  in  moments  of 
intense  grief.  The  carpenter's  wife  tried  to  lift 
her,  and  to  bend  her  arms,  so  as  to  get  hold  of 
her;  but  the  girl  was  as  rigid  as  though  she  were 
in  a  cataleptic  trance. 

"  Poor  child !  Poor  Concetta ! "  exclaimed  the 
carpenter's  wife,  softly. 

Then,  bending  her  broad  back,  she  raised  the 
girl  up  by  main  strength,  getting  first  one  arm 
round  her  and  then  the  other,  till  she  got  her 
weight  up  and  could  carry  her.  Her  crooked  little 
husband  paid  no  attention  to  her.  Women  were 
women's  business  at  such  times.  The  big  woman 
got  the  girl  out  into  the  morning  sunshine  in  the 
court,  meeting  the  eccentric  undertaker  and  the 
priest,  who  were  talking  together  outside.  San 
Giacinto  came  forward  instantly,  followed  by  Or- 
siuo,  who  had  been  wandering  about  the  rampart 
over  the  river*  when  the  crowd  had  come.  San 
Giacinto  took  the  unconscious  girl's  body  from 
the  woman,  with  ease. 

"Come,"  he  said,  carrying  her  before  him  on 
his  arms.  "Get  some  water." 

He  entered  the  room  where  the  men  had  slept 
on  some  straw  and  laid  Concetta  down,  her  arms 


212  COBLEONE 

still  stiffened  above  her  head.  One  of  the  troopers 
brought  water  in  a  pannikin.  San  Giacinto  dashed 
the  cold  drops  upon  the  white  face,  and  the  feat- 
ures quivered  nervously. 

''Take  care  of  her,"  he  said  to  the  woman. 
"Who  is  she?" 

"  She  is  Concetta,  the  daughter  of  Don  Atanasio, 
the  apothecary.  She  was  to  marry  Don  Ferdi- 
nando  next  week.  But  now  that  they  have  killed 
him,  she  will  marry  someone  else." 

"  Poor  girl ! "  exclaimed  San  Giacinto,  compas- 
sionately, and  he  turned  and  went  out. 

Orsino  was  standing  by  the  door,  looking  in,  and 
he  had  heard  what  the  woman  had  said.  It  con- 
firmed what  he  had  guessed  from  the  girl's  own 
words.  He  wondered  how  it  was  possible  that  the 
action  of  one  second  could  really  cause  such  terrible 
trouble  in  the  world. 

From  the  open  door  of  the  church  came  the 
sound  of  the  regular  blows  of  a  hammer.  The 
work  had  been  quickly  done,  and  the  carpenter 
was  nailing  down  the  lid  of  the  coffin.  The  priest, 
who  had  stayed  in  the  early  sunshine  for  warmth, 
hung  a  shabby  little  stole  round  his  neck,  and  took 
the  holy  water  basin  and  the  little  broom  from  the 
boy,  and  entered  the  church  to  bless  the  body  be- 
fore it  was  taken  away. 

As  it  was  not  advisable  to  let  in  the  crowd,  the 
six  soldiers  lifted  the  coffin  and  bore  it  out  of  the 


CORLEONE  213 

gate.  Then  the  peasants  laid  it  on  a  bier  which 
had  been  brought  after  them  and  covered  it  with 
a  rusty  black  pall.  The  priest  walked  before  it, 
and  began  to  recite  the  psalms  for  the  dead.  The 
women  covered  their  heads,  and  some  of  the  men 
uncovered  theirs,  and  a  few  joined  in  the  priest's 
monotonous  recitations.  A  quarter  of  an  hour 
later,  San  Giacinto,  watching  from  the  gate,  saw 
the  last  of  the  people  disappear  up  the  drive. 
But  the  carpenter's  wife  had  stayed  with  Concetta. 
"It  is  a  bad  business,"  said  the  old  giant  to 
himself,  as  he  turned  and  went  in. 


THE  taking  possession  of  Camaldoli  had  turned 
out  much  more  difficult  and  dangerous  than  even 
San  Giacinto  had  anticipated,  for  the  catastrophe 
of  Ferdinando  Pagliuca's  death  had  at  once  aroused 
the  anger  and  revengeful  resentment  of  the  whole 
neighbourhood.  He  made  up  his  mind  that  it 
would  be  necessary  for  himself  or  Orsino  to  return 
to  Rome  at  once,  both  in  order  to  see  the  Minister 
of  the  Interior,  with  a  view  to  obtaining  special 
protection  from  the  government,  and  to  see  the 
Pagliuca  family,  in  the  hope  of  pacifying  them. 

The  latter  mission  would  not  be  an  easy  nor  an 
agreeable  one,  and  San  Giacinto  would  gladly  have 
undertaken  it  himself.  On  the  other  hand,  he  did 
not  trust  Orsino's  wisdom  in  managing  matters 
in  Sicily.  The  young  man  was  courageous  and 
determined,  but  he  had  not  the  knowledge  of 
the  southern  character  which  was  indispensable. 
Moreover,  he  was  not  the  real  owner  of  the  lands, 
and  would  not  feel  that  he  had  authority  to  act 
independently  in  all  cases.  It  was,  therefore,  de- 
cided that  Orsino  should  go  back  to  Kome  at 
214 


CORLEONE  215 

once,  while  San  Giacinto  remained  at  Camaldoli 
to  get  matters  into  a  better  shape. 

It  was  a  dreary  journey  for  Orsino.  He  tele- 
graphed that  he  was  coming,  found  that  there  was 
no  steamer  from  Messina,  crossed  to  Reggio,  and 
travelled  all  night  and  all  the  next  day  by  the 
railway,  reaching  Rome  at  night,  jaded  and  worn. 

He  found,  as  he  had  expected,  that  all  Rome 
was  talking  of  his  adventure  with  the  brigands, 
and  of  the  death  of  Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  and  of 
the  probable  consequences.  But  he  learned  to  his 
surprise  how  Tebaldo  had  been  heard  to  say  at 
the  club  on  the  previous  afternoon  that  Ferdinando 
was  no  relation  of  his,  and  that  it  was  a  mere 
coincidence  of  names. 

"Nevertheless,"  said  Sant'  Ilario,  "we  all  believe 
that  you  have  killed  his  brother.  Tebaldo  Pa- 
gliuca has  no  mind  to  have  it  said  that  his  brother 
was  a  brigand  and  died  like  a  dog.  He  says  he 
is  not  in  Sicily,  but  left  some  time  ago.  As  no 
one  in  Rome  ever  saw  him,  most  people  will 
accept  the  statement  for  the  girl's  sake,  if  not 
for  the  rest  of  the  family." 

Orsino  looked  "down  thoughtfully  while  his  father 
Was  speaking.  He  understood  at  once  that  the 
story  being  passably  discreditable  to  the  d'Oriani, 
he  had  better  seem  to  fall  in  with  their  view  of 
the  case,  by  holding  his  peace  when  he  could. 
His  father  and  mother,  as  well  as  the  old  Prince, 


216  COR  LEONE 

insisted  upon  hearing  a  detailed  account  of  the 
affair  in  the  woods,  however,  and  he  was  obliged 
to  tell  them  all  that  had  happened,  though  he  said 
nothing  about  the  fancied  resemblance  of  Ferdi- 
nando  to  Vittoria,  and  as  little  as  possible  about 
the  way  in  which  the  people  had  carried  off  the 
man's  body  with  a  public  demonstration  of  sorrow. 
After  all,  110  one  had  told  him  that  Ferdinando 
was  the  brother  of  Tebaldo.  He  had  taken  it  for 
granted,  and  it  was  barely  possible  that  he  might 
have  been  mistaken. 

"  There  may  be  others  of  the  name,"  he  said,  as 
he  concluded  his  story. 

His  mother  looked  at  him  keenly.  Half  an  hour 
later  he  was  alone  with  her  in  her  own  sitting-room. 

"  Why  did  you  say  that  there  might  be  others  of 
the  name  ? "  she  asked  gravely.  "  Why  did  you 
wish  -to  imply  that  the  unfortunate  man  may  not 
have  been  the  brother  of  Don  Tebaldo  and  Donna 
Vittoria  ?  " 

Orsino  was  silent  for  a  moment.  There  was  re- 
proach in  Corona's  tone,  for  she  herself  had  not 
the  slightest  doubt  in  the  matter.  He  came  and 
stood  before  her,  for  he  was  a  truthful  man. 

"It  seemed  to  me,"  he  said,  "that  I  might  let 
him  have  the  benefit  of  any  doubt  there  may  be, 
though  I  have  none  myself.  The  story  will  be  a 
terrible  injury  to  the  family." 

"  You  are  certainly  not  called  upon  to  tell  it  to 


COBLEONE  217 

everyone,"  said  Corona.  "  I  only  wished  to  know 
what  you  really  thought." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  feel  sure  of  the  man's 
identity,  mother.  And  I  want  you  to  help  me," 
'  he  added  suddenly.  "  I  wish  to  see  Donna  Vittoria 
alone.  You  can  manage  it." 

Corona  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  looked  long 
and  earnestly  at  her  eldest  son. 

"  What  is  it,  mother  ?  "  he  asked,  at  last. 

"It  is  a  very  terrible  thing,"  she  answered 
slowly.  "  You  love  the  girl,  you  wish  to  marry 
her,  and  you  have  killed  her  brother.  Is  not  that 
the  truth?  " 

"Yes,  that  is  the  truth,"  said  Orsino.  "Help 
me  to  see  her.  No  one  else  can." 

"  Does  anyone  know  ?  Did  you  speak  about  it 
to  her  mother,  or  her  brothers,  before  you  left? 
Does  Ippolito  know  ?  " 

"  No  one  knows.     Will  you  help  me,  mother  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  Corona,  thoughtfully. 
"  Not  that  I  wish  you  to  marry  into  that  family," 
she  added.  "  They  have  a  bad  name." 

"  But  she  is  not  like  them.     It  is  not  her  fault." 

"No,  it  is  not  her  fault,  and  she  has  not  their 
faults.  But  for  her  brothers  —  well,  we  need  not 
talk  of  that.  For  the  sake  of  what  there  has  been 
between  you  two,  already,  you  have  a  sort  of  right 
to  see  Vittoria." 

"  I  must  see  her." 


21 8  CORLEONE 

"  I  went  there  yesterday,  after  we  read  the  news 
in  the  papers,"  said  Corona.  "Her  mother  was 
ill.  Later  your  father  came  in  and  said  he  had 
seen  Don  Tebaldo  at  the  club.  You  heard  what  he 
said.  They  mean  to  deny  the  relationship.  -In 
fact,  they  have  done  so.  I  can  therefore  propose 
to  take  Vittoria  to  drive  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  I ' 
can  bring  her  here  to  tea,  in  my  own  sitting-room. 
Then  you  may  come  here  and  see  her,  and  I  will 
leave  you  alone  for  a  little  while.  Yes  —  you  have 
a  right  to  see  her  and  to  defend  yourself  to  her, 
and  explain  to  her  how  you  killed  that  poor  man, 
not  knowing  who  he  was." 

"  Thank  you — you  are  very  good  to  me.  Mother 
— "  he  hesitated  a  moment  —  "  if  my  father  had 
killed  your  brother  by  accident,  would  you  have 
married  him  ?  " 

He  fixed  his  eyes  on  Corona's.  She  was  silent 
for  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  she  answered  presently.  "'The  love  of 
an  honest  woman  for  an  honest  man  can  go  farther 
than  that." 

She  turned  her  beautiful  face  from  Orsino  as  she 
spoke,  and  her  splendid  eyes  grew  dreamy  and  soft, 
as  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair  beside  her  writing- 
table.  He  watched  her,  and  a  wave  of  hope  rose 
slowly  to  his  heart.  But  all  women  were  not  like 
his  mother. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  she  wrote  a  note 


COR  LEONE  219 

to  Vittoria.  The  answer  came  back  after  a  long 
time,  and  the  man  sent  up  word  that  he  had  been 
kept  waiting  three-quarters  of  an  hour  for  it.  It 
was  written  in  a  tremulous  hand,  and  badly  worded, 
but  it  said  that  Vittoria  would  be  ready  at  the  ap- 
pointed time.  Her  mother,  she  added,  was  ill,  but 
wished  her  to  accept  the  Princess's  invitation. 

Vittoria  had  grown  thin  and  pale,  and  there  was 
a  sort  of  haunted  look  in  her  young  eyes  as  she  sat 
beside  Corona  in  the  big  carriage.  Corona  herself 
hesitated  as  to  what  she  should  say,  for  the  girl 
was  evidently  in  a  condition  to  faint,  or  break 
down  with  tears,  at  any  sudden  shock.  Yet  it  was 
necessary  to  tell  her  that  Orsino  was  waiting  for 
her,  and  it  might  be  necessary  also  to  use  some 
persuasion  in  inducing  her  to  meet  him. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Corona,  after  a  little  while,  "  I 
want  you  to  come  home  with  me  when  we  have 
had  a  little  drive.  Do  you  mind  ?  We  will  have 
tea  together  in  my  little  room." 

"  Yes  —  of  course  —  I  should  like  it  very  much," 
answered  Vittoria. 

"  We  shall  not  be  quite  alone,"  Corona  continued. 
"I  hope  you  will  not  mind." 

Corona  Saracinesca  had  many  good  qualities,  but 
she  was  not  remarkably  clever,  and  when  she 
wished  to  be  tactful  she  often  found  herself  in 
conflict  with  the  singular  dii-ectness  of  her  own 
character.  At  the  same  time,  she  feared  to  let  the 


220  COBLEONE 

girl  at  her  side  see  liow  much  she  knew.  Yittoria 
looked  so  pale  and  nervous  that  she  might  faint. 
Corona  had  never  fainted.  The  girl  naturally  sup- 
posed that  Orsino  was  still  in  Sicily. 

They  were  near  the  Porta  Salaria,  and  there  was 
a  long  stretch  of  lonely  road  between  high  walls, 
just  beyond  it.  Corona  waited  till  they  had  passed 
the  gate. 

"My  dear,"  she  began  again,  taking  Vittoria's 
hand  kindly,  "do  not  be  surprised  at  what  I  am 
going  to  tell  you.  My  son  Orsino  —  " 

Vittoria  started,  and  her  hand  shook  in  her  com- 
panion's hold. 

"  Yes  —  my  son  Orsino  has  come  back  unexpect- 
edly and  wishes  very  much  to  see  you." 

Vittoria  leaned  back  suddenly  and  closed  her 
eyes.  Corona  thought  that  the  fainting  fit  had 
certainly  come,  and  tried  to  put  her  arm  round  the 
slight  young  figure.  But  as  she  looked  into  Vitto- 
ria's face,  she  saw  that  the  soft  colour  was  suddenly 
blushing  in  her  cheeks.  In  a  moment  her  eyes 
opened  again,  and  there  was  light  in  them  for  a 
moment. 

"  I  did  not  know  how  you  would  take  it,"  said 
Corona,  simply,  "  but  I  see  that  you  are  glad." 

"  For  him  —  that  he  is  safe,"  answered  the  young 
girl,  in  a  low  voice.  "But  —  " 

She  stopped,  and  gradually  the  colour  sank  away 
from  her  face  again,  and  her  eyes  grew  heavy 


CORLEONE  221 

once  more.  The  trouble  was  greater  than  the  glad- 
ness. 

"  Will  you  see  him,  in  my  own  room  ?  "  asked 
the  elder  woman,  after  a  pause. 

"Oh,  yes  —  yes!  Indeed  I  will  —  I  must  see 
him.  How  kind  you  are ! " 

Corona  leaned  forward  and  spoke  to  the  footman 
at  once,  and  the  carriage  turned  back  towards  the 
city.  She  knew  well  enough  how  desperately  hard 
it  would  be  for  Yittoria  to  wait  for  the  meeting. 
She  knew  also,  not  by  instinct  of  tact,  but  by  a 
woman's  inborn  charity,  that  it  would  be  kind  of 
her  to  speak  of  other  things,  now  that  she  had  said 
what  was  necessary,  and  not  to  force  upon  Vittoria 
the  fact  that  Orsino  had  revealed  his  secret,  still 
less  to  ask  her  any  questions  about  her  true  rela- 
tionship to  Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  which  might  put 
her  in  the  awkward  position  of  contradicting 
Tebaldo's  public  statement.  But  as  they  swept 
down  the  crowded  streets,  amongst  the  many  car- 
riages, Vittoria  looked  round  into  Corona's  face 
almost  shyly,  for  she  was  very  grateful. 

"  How  good  you.  are  to  me ! "  she  exclaimed 
softly.  "I  shall  not  forget  it." 

Corona  smiled,  but  said  nothing,  and  ten  minutes 
later  the  carriage  thundered  under  the  archway  of 
the  gate.  Corona  took  Yittoria  through  the  state 
apartments,  where  they  were  sure  of  meeting  no 
one  at  that  time,  and  into  her  bedroom  by  a  door 


222  COR  LEONE 

she  seldom  used.  Then  she  pointed  to  another  at 
the  other  side. 

"  That  is  the  way  to  my  sitting-room,  my  dear," 
she  said.  "  Orsino  is  there  alone." 

With  a  sudden  impulse,  she  kissed  her  on*  both 
cheeks  and  pushed  her  towards  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ORSIXO  heard  the  door  of  his  mother's  bedroom 
open,  and  rose  to  his  feet,  expecting  to  see  Corona. 
He  started  as  Vittoria  entered,  and  he  touched  the 
writing-table  with  his  hand  as  though  he  were 
unsteady.  The  young  girl  came  forward  towards 
him  quickly,  and  the  colour  rose  visibly  in  her  face 
while  she  crossed  the  little  room.  Orsino  was 
white  and  did  not  hold  out  his  hand,  not  knowing 
what  to  expect,  for  it  was  the  hand  that  had  killed 
her  brother  but  two  days  ago. 

Vittoria  had  not  thought  of  what  she  should  do 
or  say,  for  it  had  been  impossible  to  think.  But 
as  she  came  near,  both  her  hands  went  out  in- 
stinctively, to  'touch  him.  Almost  instinctively, 
too,  he  drew  back  from  her  touch  a  little.  But 
she  did  not  see  the  movement,  and  her  eyes 
sought  his,  as  s4ie  laid  her  fingers  lightly  upon 
his  shoulders  and  looked  up  to  him.  Then  the 
sadness  in  his  face,  that  had  been  almost  like  fear 
of  her,  relaxed  toward  a  change,  and  his  eyes 
opened  wide  in  a  sort  of  hesitating  surprise.  Two 
words,  low  and  earnest,  trembled  upon  Vittoria's 
lips. 

223 


224  COELEONE 

"  Thank  God  !  " 

In  an  instant  he  knew  that  she  loved  him  in 
spite  of  all.  Yet,  arguing  against  his  senses  that  it 
was  impossible,  he  would  not  take  her  at  her  word. 
He  took  both  her  hands  from  his  shoulders  and 
held  them,  so  that  they  crossed. 

"  Was  he  really  your  brother  ?"  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  faintly,  and  looked  down. 

Perhaps  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  should  be 
ashamed  of  forgiving,  before  he  had  said  one  word 
of  defence  or  uttered  one  expression  of  sorrow  for 
what  he  had  done.  But  she  loved  him,  and  since 
she  had  been  a  little  child  she  had  not  seen  her 
brother  Ferdinando  half  a  dozen  times.  It  was 
true  that  when  she  had  seen  him  she  had  been 
drawn  to  him,  as  she  was  not  drawn  to  the  two  that 
were  left,  for  he  had  not  been  like  the  others.  She 
knew  that  she  should  have  trusted  Ferdinando  if 
she  had  known  him  better. 

Orsino  began  his  defence. 

"  We  were  fired  upon  several  times,"  he  said. 
Her  hands  started  in  his,  as  she  thought  of  his  dan- 
ger. "I  saw  a  man's  coat  moving  m  the  brush," 
he  continued,  "  and  I  aimed  at  it.  I  never  saw  the 
man's  face  till  we  found  him  lying  dead.  It  was 
not  an  accident,  for  bullets  cut  the  trees  overhead 
and  struck  the  carriage."  Again  her  hands  quiv- 
ered. "It  was  a  fight,  and  I  meant  to  kill  the 
man.  But  I  could  not  see  his  face." 


COELEONE  225 

She  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  Then,  for  the 
first  time,  she  shrank  a  little,  and  withdrew  her 
hands  from  his. 

"  I  know  —  yes  —  it  is  terrible,"  she  said  in 
broken  tones ;  and  she  glanced  at  him,  and  looked 
down  again.  "  Do  not  speak  of  it,"  she  added  sud- 
denly, and  she  was  surprised  at  her  own  words. 

It  was  the  woman's  impulse  to  dissociate  the 
man  she  loved  from  the  deed,  for  which  she  could 
not  but  feel  horror.  She  would  have  given  the 
world  to  sit  down  beside  him  and  talk  of  other 
things.  But  he  wished  the  situation  to  be  cleared 
for  ever,  as  any  courageous  man  would. 

"  I  must  speak  of  it,"  he  answered.  "  Perhaps 
we  shall  never  have  the  chance  again  —  " 

"  Never  ?  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  asked 
quickly.  "  Why  not  ?  " 

"  You  may  forgive  me,"  he  answered  earnestly. 
"  You  know  that  I  would  have  let  him  shoot  me 
ten  times  over  rather  than  have  hurt  you  — 

"  Orsino  —  "  She  touched  his  arm  nervously, 
trying  to  stop  him. 

"  Yes  —  I  wish- 1  were  in  his  grave  to-day!  You 
may  forgive,  but  you  cannot  forget  —  how  can 
you  ?  " 

"  How  ?    If  —  if  you  still  love  me,  I  can  forget — " 

Orsino's  eyes  were  suddenly  moist.  It  seemed  as 
though  something  broke,  and  let  in  the  light. 

"  I  shall  always  love  you,"  he  said  simply ;    as 

VOL.    I.  Q 


226  CORLEONE 

men  sometimes  do  when  they  are  very  much  in 
earnest. 

"And  I  —  " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence  in  words,  but  her 
hand  and  face  said  the  rest. 

"  Sit  down,"  she  said,  after  a  little  silence. 

They  went  to  a  little  sofa  and  sat  down  together, 
opposite  the  window. 

"  Do  you  think  that  anything  you  could  do  could 
make  me  not  love  you  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  into 
his  face.  "  Are  you  surprised  ?  Did  you  think 
that  I  should  turn  upon  you  and  accuse  you  of  my 
brother's  death,  and  say  that  I  hated  you?  You 
should  not  have  judged  me  so  —  it  was  un- 
kind ! " 

"  It  has  all  been  so  horrible  that  I  did  not  know 
what  to  expect,"  he  said.  "  I  have  not  been  able 
to  think  sensibly  until  now.  And  even  now  —  no, 
I  have  not  judged  you,  as  you  call  it,  dear.  But  I 
expected  that  you  would  judge  me,  as  God  knows 
you  have  the  right." 

"Why  should  I  judge  you?"  asked  Vittoria, 
softly  and  lovingly.  "  If  you  liad  lain  in  wait  for 
him  and  killed  him  treacherously,  as  he  meant  to 
kill  you,  it  would  have  been  different.  If  he  had 
killed  you,  as  he  was  there  to  kill  you  —  as  he 
might  have  killed  you  if  you  had  not  been  first  — 
I  —  well,  I  am  only  a.  girl,  but  even  these  little 
hands  would  have  had  some  strength !  But  as  it 


CORLEONE  227 

is,  God  willed  it.  Whom  shall  I  judge?  God? 
That  would  be  wrong.  God  protected  you,  and 
my  brother  died  in  his  treachery.  Do  you  think 
that  if  I  had  been  there,  and  had  been  a  man,  and 
the  guns  firing,  and  the  bullets  flying,  I  should  not 
have  done  as  you  did,  and  shot  my  own  brother  ? 
It  would  have  been  much  more  horrible  even  than 
it  is,  but  of  course  I  should  have  done"  it.  Then 
why  are  you  in  such  distress  ?  Why  did  you  think 
that  I  should  not  love  you  any  more  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  dare  to  think  it,"  answered  Orsino. 

"You  see,  as  I  said,  God  willed  it  —  not  you. 
You  were  but  the  instrument,  unconscious  and 
innocent.  It  is  only  a  little  child  that  will  strike 
the  senseless  thing  that  hurts  it." 

"  You  are  eloquent,  darling.  You  will  make  me 
think  as  you  do." 

"I  wish  you  would,  indeed  I  wish  you  would! 
I  am  sorry,  I  am  grieved,  I  shall  mourn  poor  Ferdi- 
nando,  though  I  scarcely  knew  him.  But  you  — 
I  shall  love  you  always,  and  for  me,  as  I  see  it,  you 
were  no  more  the  willing  cause  of  his  death  than 
the  senseless  gun,  you  held  in  your  hand.  Do  you 
believe  me  ?  " 

She  took  his  hand  again,  as  though  to  feel  that 
he  understood.  And  understanding,  he  drew  her 
close  to  him  and  kissed  her  young  eyes,  as  he  had 
done  that  first  time,  out  on  the  bridge  over  the 
street. 


228  COELEONE 

"  You  have  my  life,"  he  said  tenderly.  "  I  give 
you  my  life  and  soul,  dear." 

She  put  up  her  face  suddenly,  and  kissed  his 
cheek,  and  instantly  the  colour  filled  her  own,  and 
she  shrank  back,  and  spoke  in  a  different  tone. 

"We  will  put  away  that  dreadful  thing,"  she 
said,  drawing  a  little  towards  her  own  end  of  the 
sofa.  "We  will  never  speak  of  it  again,  for  you 
understand." 

"But  your  mother,  your  brothers,"  answered 
Orsino.  "What  of  them?  I  hear  that  they  do 
not  acknowledge  —  "  he  stopped,  puzzled  as  to  how 
he  should  speak. 

"My  mother  is  ill  with  grief,  for  Ferdinando 
was  her  favourite.  But  Tebaldo  and  Francesco 
have  determined  that  they  will  act  as  though  he 
were  no  relation  of  ours.  They  say  that  it  would 
ruin  us  all  to  have  it  said  that  our  brother  had 
been  with  the  brigands.  That  is  true,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"It  would  be  a  great  injury  to  you,"  answered 
Orsino. 

"Yes.  That  is  what  they  say.  And  Tebaldo 
will  not  let  us  wear  mourning,  for  fear  that  people 
should  not  believe  what  he  says.  This  morning 
when  the  Princess's  note  came,  Tebaldo  insisted 
that  I  should  accept,  but  my  mother  said  that  I 
should  not  come  to  the  house.  They  had  a  long 
discussion,  and  she  submitted  at  last.  What  can 
she  do  ?  He  rules  everybody  —  and  he  is  bad,  bad 


COELEONE  229 

in  his  heart,  bad  in  his  soul !  Francesco  is  only 
weak,  but  Tebaldo  is  bad.  Beware  of  him,  for 
though  he  says  that  Ferdinando  was  not  his  brother, 
he  will  not  forgive  you.  But  you  will  not  go  back 
to  Sicily  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  must  go.  I  cannot  leave  San  Giacinto 
alone,  since  I  have  created  so  much  trouble." 

"Since  poor  Ferdinando  is  dead,  you  will  be 
safer  —  I  mean  —  "  she  hesitated.  "  Orsino !  "  she 
suddenly  exclaimed,  "  I  knew  that  he  would  try  to 
kill  you  —  that  is  why  I  wanted  to  keep  you  here. 
I  did  not  dare  tell  you  —  but  I  begged  so  hard — I 
thought  that  for  my  sake,  perhaps,  you  would  not 
go.  Tebaldo  would  kill  me  if  he  knew  that  I  were 
telling  you  the  truth  now.  He  knew  that  Ferdi- 
nando had  friends  among  the  outlaAvs,  and  that 
he  sometimes  lived  with  them  for  weeks.  And 
Ferdinando  wrote  to  Tebaldo,  and  warned  him  that 
although  he  had  signed  the  deed,  no  one  should 
ever  enter  the  gate  of  Camaldoli  while  he  was 
alive.  And  no  one  did,  for  he  died.  But  the 
Romans  would  think  that  he  was  a  common  brig- 
and; and  I  suppose  that  Tebaldo  is  right,  for  it 
would  injure  us  very  much.  But  between  you  and 
me  there  must  be  nothing  but  the  truth,  so  I  have 
told  you  all.  And  now  beware  of  Tebaldo ;  for, 
in  spite  of  what  he  says,  he  will  some  day  try  to 
avenge  his  brother." 

"I   understand   it  all   much  better  now,"   said 


230  COBLEONE 

Orsino,  thoughtfully.  "I  am  glad  you  have  told 
me.  But  the  question  is,  whether  your  mother 
and  your  brothers  will  ever  consent  to  our  mar- 
riage, Vittoria.  That  is  what  I  want  to  know." 

"My  mother — never!  Tebaldo  might,  for  inter- 
est. He  is  very  scheming.  But  my  mother  will 
never  consent.  She  will  never  see  you  again,  if 
she  can  help  it." 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  "  asked  Orsino,  speaking 
rather  to  himself  than  to  Vittoria. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone  of 
perplexity.  "  We  must  wait,  I  suppose.  Perhaps 
she  will  change,  and  see  it  all  differently.  We 
can  afford  to  wait  —  we  are  young.  We  love  each 
other,  and  we  can  meet.  Is  it  so  hard  to  wait 
awhile  before  being  married  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Orsino.  "It  is  hard  to  wait  for 
you." 

"  I  will  do  anything  you  like,"  answered  Vittoria. 
"Only  wait  a  little  while,  and  see  whether  my 
mother  does  not  change.  Only  a  little  while  ! " 

"  We  must,  I  suppose,"  said  Orsino,  reluctantly. 
"But  I  do  not  see  why  your  mother  should  not 
always  think  of  me  as  she  does  to-day.  I  can  do 
nothing  to  improve  matters." 

"Let  us  be  satisfied  with  to-day,"  replied  Vit- 
toria, rather  anxiously,  and  as  though  to  break  off 
the  conversation.  "  I  was  miserably  unhappy  this 
evening,  and  I  thought  you  were  in  Sicily;  and 


COELEONE  231 

instead,  we  have  met.  It  is  enough  for  one  day  — 
it  is  a  thousand  times  more  than  I  had  hoped." 

"  Or  I,"  said  Orsino,  bending  down  and  kissing 
her  hand  more  than  once. 

The  handle  of  Corona's  door  turned  very  audibly 
just  then,  and  a  moment  later  the  Princess  entered 
the  room.  Without  seeming  to  scrutinize  the  faces 
of  the  two,  she  iinderstood  at  a  glance  that  Vittoria 
had  accepted  the  tragic  situation,  as  she  herself 
would  have  done ;  and  that  if  there  had  been  any 
discussion,  it  was  over. 

Vittoria  coloured  a  little,  when  she  met  Corona's 
eyes,  realizing  how  the  older  woman  had,  as  it 
were,  arranged  a  lovers'  meeting  for  her.  But 
Corona  herself  did  not  know  whether  to  be  glad 
or  sorry  for  what  had  happened. 

Nor  was  it  easy  for  anyone  to  foresee  the  conse- 
quences of  the  present  situation.  It  was  only  too 
clear  that  the  young  people  loved  each  other  with 
all  their  hearts ;  and  Corona  herself  was  very  fond 
of  Vittoria,  and  believed  her  to  be  quite  unlike  her 
family.  Yet  at  best  she  was  an  exception  in  a 
race  that  had  a  bad  name ;  and  Corona  knew  how 
her  husband  and  his  father  would  oppose  the  mar- 
riage, even  though  she  herself  should  consent  to 
it.  She  guessed,  too,  that  Vittoria's  mother  would 
refuse  to  hear  of  it.  Altogether  Orsino  had  fallen 
in  love  very  unfortunately,  and  Corona  could  see 
no  possible  happy  termination  to  the  affair. 


232  COIiLEONE 

Therefore,  against  her  own  nature  and  her  affec- 
tion for  her  son,  she  was  conscious  of  a  certain 
disappointment  when  she  saw  that  the  love  be- 
tween the  two  was  undirainished,  even  by  the  ter- 
rible catastrophe  of  Ferdinando's  death.  It  Avould 
have  been  so  much  simpler  if  Vittoria  had  bidden 
goodbye  for  ever  to  the  man  who  had  killed  her 
brother. 


CHAPTER  XV 

SARACINESCA  was,  perhaps,  of  all  the 
household  the  most  glad  to  see  his  favourite 
brother  at  home  again  so  soon.  He  missed  the 
companionship  which  had  always  been  a  large 
element  in  his  life. 

"I  shall  go  with  you  when  you  return,"  he 
said,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  Orsino's  table,  and 
swinging  his  priestly  legs  in  an  undignified 
fashion. 

"  Are  you  in  earnest  ? "  asked  Orsino,  with  a 
laugh. 

"Yes.  Why  not?  You  say  that  there  is  a 
church  on  the  place,  or  a  chapel.  I  will  say  mass 
there  for  the  household  on  Sundays,  and  keep  you 
company  on  week-days.  You  will  be  .lonely  when 
San  Giacinto  comes  back.  Besides,  after  what 
has  happened,  I  hate  to  think  that  you  are  down 
there  alone  among  strangers." 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  keep  you  in  Rome  ? " 
asked  Orsino,  much  tempted  by  the  offer. 

"Nothing  in  the  world." 

"There  will  be  no  piano  at  Camaldoli." 
233 


234  COELEONE 

"I  suppose  there  is  an  organ  in  your  church, 
is  there  not  ?  " 

"No.  There  is  probably  one  in  the  church  of 
Santa  Vittoria.  You  could  go  and  play  on  it." 

"How  far  is  it?" 

"Three-quarters  of  a  mile,  I  was  told." 

"As  far  as  from  the  Piazza  di  Venezia  to  the 
Piazza  del  Popolo." 

"Less.  That  is  a  mile,  they  always  used  to 
say,  when  the  loose  horses  ran  the  race  in 
carnival." 

"It  would  be  just  a  pleasant  walk,  then,"  said 
Ippolito,  already  planning  his  future  occupations 
at  Camaldoli.  "  I  could  go  over  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  church  is  closed,  and  play  on  the  organ 
an  hour  or  two  whenever  I  pleased." 

"I  have  no  idea  what  sort  of  thing  the  Santa 
Vittoria  organ  will  turn  out  to  be,"  answered 
Orsino.  "It  is  probably  falling  to  pieces,  and 
has  not  been  tuned  since  the  beginning  of  the 
century." 

"I  will  mend  it  and  tune  it,"  said  Ippolito, 
confidently. 

"  You  ?  "  Orsino  looked  at  his  brother's  deli- 
cate hands  and  laughed. 

"  Of  course.  Every  musician  knows  something 
about  the  instruments  he  plays.  I  know  how  an 
organ  is  tuned,  and  I  understand  the  mechanism. 
The  old-fashioned  ones  are  simple  things  enough. 


CORLEONE  235 

When  a  note  goes  wrong  you  can  generally  mend 
the  tracker  with  a  bit  of  wire,  or  a  stick,  as  the 
case  may  be  —  or  if  it  is  the  wind  chest  —  " 

"It  is  not  of  the  slightest  use  to  talk  to  me 
about  that  sort  of  thing,"  interrupted  Orsino,  "for 
I  understand  nothing  about  organs,  nor  about 
music  either,  for  that  matter." 

"  I  will  take  some  tools  with  me,  and  some  kid, 
and  a  supply  of  fine  glue,"  said  Ippolito,  still  full 
of  his  idea.  "  How  about  the  rooms  ?  Is  there 
any  decent  f urniture  ?  " 

Orsino  gave  him  a  general  idea  of  the  state  of 
Camaldoli,  not  calculated  to  encourage  him  in  his 
intention,  but  the  young  priest  was  both  very  fond 
of  his  brother,  and  he  was  in  love  with  the  novelty 
of  his  idea. 

"  I  daresay  that  they  have  not  too  many  priests 
in  that  part  of  the  country,  "•  he  said.  "  I  may  be 
of  some  use." 

"  "We  got  one  without  difficulty  to  bury  that  poor 
man,"  answered  Orsino.  "But  you  may  be  right. 
You  may  be  the  means  of  redeeming  Sicily."  He 
laughed. 

He  was,  indeed,  inclined  to  laugh  rather  unex- 
pectedly, since  his  interview  with  Vittoria.  He 
was  far  too  manly  and  strong  to  be  saddened  for 
any  length  of  time  by  the  fact  of  having  taken 
the  life  of  a  man  who  had,  undoubtedly,  attempted 
to  murder  him.  by  stealth.  He  had  been  op- 


236  COELEONE 

pressed  by  the  certainty  that  the  deed  had  raised 
an  insurmountable  barrier  between  Vittoria  and 
himself.  Since  he  had  found  that  he  had  been 
mistaken,  he  was  frankly  glad  that  he  had  killed 
Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  for  the  very  plain  reason 
that  if  he  had  not  done  so,  Ferdinando  Pagliuca 
would  have  certainly  killed  him,  or  San  Giacinto, 
or  both.  He  had  no  more  mawkish  sentiment 
about  the  horror  of  shedding  human  blood  than 
had  embarrassed  his  own  forefathers  in  wilder 
times.  If  men  turned  brigands  and  dug  pitfalls, 
and  tried  to  murder  honest  folk  by  treachery,  they 
deserved  to  be  killed ;  and  though  the  first  impres- 
sion he  had  received,  when  he  had  been  sure  that 
he  had  killed  his  man,  had  been  painful,  because 
he  was  young  and  inexperienced  in  actual  fighting, 
he  now  realized  that  but  for  the  relationship  of 
the  dead  man,  it  had  been  not  only  excusable,  but 
wise,  to  shoot  him  like  a  wild  beast.  His  own 
people  thought  so  too. 

It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  his  spirits  should 
rise  after  his  interview  with  Vittoria.  On  that 
day  he  had  already  been  busy  in  carrying  out  San 
Giacinto's  directions,  and  on  the  following  morn- 
ing he  went  to  work  with  increased  energy. 

Corona  watched  him  when  they  met,  and  the 
presentiment  of  evil  which  had  seized  her  when 
he  had  first  spoken  of  going  to  Sicily  became 
more  oppressive.  She  told  herself  that  the  worst 


CQRLEONE  237 

had  happened  which  could  happen,  but  she 
answered  herself  with  old  tales  of  Sicilian  re- 
venge after  long-nourished  hatred.  She  was 
shocked  when  Ippolito  announced  his  intention 
of  accompanying  his  brother.  Ippolito  was  al- 
most indispensable  to  her.  The  old  Prince  used 
to  tell  her  that  her  priest  son  answered  the  pur- 
pose of  a  daughter  with  none  of  the  latter's  dis- 
advantages, at  which  Ippolito  himself  was  the 
first  to  laugh  good-naturedly,  being  well  aware 
that  he  had  as  good  stuff  in  him  as  his  rough-cast 
brothers.  But  Corona  really  loved  Mm  more  as 
a  daughter  than  a  son,  and  because  he  was  less 
strong  than  the  others,  she  was  not  so  easily  per- 
suaded that  he  was  safe  when  he  was  away  from 
her,  and  she  half  resented  the  old  gentleman's 
jest.  She  especially  dreaded  anything  like  physi- 
cal exposure  or  physical  danger  for  him.  She  was 
a  brave  and  strong  woman  in  almost  every  way, 
and  would  have  sent  her  other  three  sons  out  to 
fight  for  their  country  or  their  honour  without 
fear  or  hesitation.  But  Ippolito  was  different. 
Orsino  might  face  the  brigands  if  he  chose.  She 
could  be  momentarily  anxious  about  him,  but  the 
belief  prevailed  with  her  that  he  could  help  him- 
self and  would  come  back  safe  and  sound.  One 
of  the  reasons,  an  unacknowledged  one,  why  she 
had  been  so  ready  to  let  Ippolito  follow  his  incli- 
nation for  the  church,  was  that  priests  are  leas 


238  COB  LEONE 

exposed  to  all  sorts  of  danger  than  other  men. 
San  Giacinto's  Sicilian  schemes  suddenly  seemed 
to  her  quite  mad  since  Ippolito  wished  to  accom- 
pany his  brother  and  share  in  any  danger  which 
might  present  itself. 

But  Ippolito  was  one  of  those  gently  obstinate 
persons  whom  it  is  hard  to  move  and  almost 
impossible  to  stop  when  they  are  moving.  He 
had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  go  to  Carnal - 
doli,  and  he  met  his  mother's  objections  with 
gentle  but  quite  unanswerable  arguments. 

Had  there  ever  been  an  instance  of  a  priest 
being  attacked  by  brigands  ?  Corona  was  obliged 
to  admit  that  she  could  remember  none.  Was 
he,  Ippolito,  accomplishing  anything  in  the 
world,  so  long  as  he  stayed  quietly  in  Rome? 
Might  he  not  do  some  good  in  the  half-civilized 
country  about  Carnal doli  and  Santa  Vittoria? 
He  could  at  least  try,  and  would.  There  was 
no  answer  to  this  either.  Was  not  Orsino,  who 
was  melancholic  by  nature,  sure  to  be  wretchedly 
lonely  down  there  after  San  Giacinto  left  ?  This 
was  undoubtedly  true. 

"But  the  malaria,"  Corona  objected  at  last. 
"There  is  the  fever  there,  all  summer,  I  am  sure. 
You  are  not  so  strong  as  Orsino.  You  will  catch 
it." 

"I  am  much  stronger  than  anybody  supposes," 
answered  Ippolito.  "  And  if  I  were  not,  it  is  not 


COELEONE  239 

always  the  strong  people  that  escape  the  fever. 
Besides,  there  can  be  none  before  June  or  July, 
and  Orsino  does  not  expect  1:6  stay  all  summer." 

He  had  his  way,  of  course,  and  made  his  prep- 
arations. Orsino  was  glad  for  his  own  sake,  and 
he  also  believed  that  the  change  of  existence 
would  do  his  brother  good.  He  himself  was  not 
present  when  these  discussions  took  place.  Ippo- 
lito  told  him  about  them. 

Orsino  wished  to  see  Vittoria  again  before  leav- 
ing Koine,  but  Corona  refused  to  help  him  any 
further. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said.  "You  had  a  right  to  see 
her  that  once.  At  least,  I  thought  so.  It  seemed 
to  be  a  sort  of  moral  right.  But  I  cannot  arrange 
meetings  for  you.  I  cannot  put  myself  in  such 
a  position  towards  that  family.  One  may  do  in 
a  desperate  situation  what  one  would  absolutely 
refuse  to  do  every  day  and  in  ordinary  circum- 
stances." 

"Going  away,  not  knowing  when  I  may  come 
back,  does  not  strike  me  as  an  ordinary  circum- 
stance," said  Orsjno,  discontentedly. 

"  You  must  see  that  for  me  to  cheat  Vittoria's 
mother  and  brothers  by  bringing  her  here  to  see 
you  secretly,  is  to  sacrifice  all  idea  of  dignity," 
answered  Corona. 

"  I  had  not  looked  at  it  in  that  light,  nor  called 
it  by  that  name." 


240  CORLEONE 

"But  I  had,  and  I  do.  I  am  perfectly  frank 
with  you,  and  I  always  have  been.  I  like  the 
girl  very  much,  but  I  do  not  wish  you  to  marry 
her,  on  account  of  her  family.  It  is  one  thing  to 
object  to  a  marriage  on  the  score  of  birth  or  fort- 
une. You  know  that  I  should  not,  though  I  hope 
you  will  marry  in  your  own  class.  Happiness  is, 
perhaps,  independent  of  the  details  of  taste  which 
make  up  daily  life,  but  it  runs  on  them,  as  a  train 
runs  on  rails  —  and  if  a  bad  jolting  is  not  unhappi- 
ness,  it  is  certainly  discomfort." 

"You  are  wise,  mother.  I  never  doubted  that. 
But  this  is  different  —  " 

"  Very  different.  That  is  what  I  meant  to  say. 
There  would,  perhaps,  be  no  question  of  that  sort 
of  moral  discomfort  with  Vittoria;  she  has  been 
well  brought  up  in  a  convent  of  ladies,  like  most 
of  the  young  girls  you  meet  in  the  world,  like  me, 
like  all  the  rest  of  us.  It  is  different.  It  is  her 
family  —  they  are  impossible,  not  socially,  for 
they  are  as  good  as  anybody  in  the  way  of 
descent.  Bianca  Campodonico  married  Vitto- 
ria's  uncle,  and  no  one  thought  it  a  bad  match 
until  it  turned  out  badly.  But  that  is  just  it. 
They  are  all  people  who  turn  out  badly.  Tebaldo 
Pagliuca  has  the  face  of  a  criminal,  and  his  brother 
makes  one  think  of  a  satyr.  Their  mother  is  a 
nonentity  and  does  not  count.  Vittoria  is  charm- 
ing. I  suppose  she  is  like  someone  on  her  mother's 


CORLEONE  241 

side,  for  she  has  not  the  smallest  resemblance  to 
any  of  the  others.  But  all  the  charm  in  the  world 
will  not  compensate  you  for  the  rest  of  them. 
And  now  you  have  had  the  frightful  misfortune 
to  kill  their  brother.  Did  you  never  hear  of  a 
vendetta  ?  The  southern  people  are  revengeful. 
The  Corleone  will  never  acknowledge  to  the  world 
that  Ferdinando  was  one  of  them,  but  they  will 
not  forget  it,  against  you  and  yours,  and  your 
children.  I  meet  those  young  men  in  the  street, 
and  they  bow  as  though  nothing  had  happened, 
but  I  know  well  enough  that  if  they  could  destroy 
every  one  of  us,  they  would.  Can  I  put  myself 
in  the  position  of  cheating  such  people  by  bring- 
ing Vittoria  here  to  see  you  secretly?  It  is  impos- 
sible. You  must  see  it  yourself." 

"Yes,"  answered  Orsino.  "I  suppose  I  must 
admit  it.  It  would  be  undignified." 

"Yes,  very.  The  word  is  not  strong  enough. 
You  must  help  yourself.  I  do  not  propose  any 
solution  of  the  difficulty.  You  love  the  girl. 
Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  stand  in  the  way  of 
honest  love  between  honest  man  and  woman.  But 
frankly,  I  wish  that  you  did  not  love  her,  and  that 
she  did  not  love  you.  And  I  cannot  help  you  any 
more,  because  I  will  not  humiliate  myself  to 
deceive  people  who  hate  me,  and  you,  and  all  of 
us,  even  to  our  name." 

"  Do  you  think  they  do  ?     Would  they  not  be 

VOL.   I. R 


242  COR  LEONE 

glad  to  see  Vittoria  married  to  me  ?  After  all,  I 
am  a  great  match  for  a  ruined  family's  only  daugh- 
ter, and  if  Tebaldo  Pagliuca  is  anything,  he  is 
grasping,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  more  revengeful  than  grasping, 
and  more  cunning  than  revengeful  —  a  dangerous 
enemy.  That  is  why  I  hate  to  see  Ippolito  go 
with  you  to  the  south.  Some  harm  will  come  to 
him,  I  am  sure.  The  Corleone  have  the  whole 
country  with  them." 

"I  will  answer  for  him,"  said  Orsino,  smiling. 
"Nothing  shall  happen  to  him." 

"  How  can  you  answer  for  him?  How  can  you 
pledge  yourself  that  he  shall  be  safe?  It  is  im- 
possible. You  cannot  spend  your  life  in  protect- 
ing him." 

"I  can  provide  people  who  will,"  answered  the 
young  man.  "But  you  are  wrong  to  be  so  timid 
about  him.  No  one  ever  touches  a  priest,  in  the 
first  place,  and  before  he  has  been  there  a  fort- 
night, all  the  people  will  like  him,  as  everybody 
always  does.  It  is  impossible  not  to  like  Ippolito. 
Besides,  Tebaldo  Pagliuca  has  no  reason  for  going 
to  Sicily  now  that  the  place  is  sold.  Why  in  the 
world  should  he  go?  Little  by  little  we  shall  gain 
influence  there,  and  before  long  we  shall  be  much 
more  popular  than  the  Corleone  ever  were.  San 
Giacinto  has  written  to  me  already.  He  says  that 
everything  is  perfectly  quiet  already, — that  was 


COBLEONE  243 

twenty-four  hours  after  I  left,  —  that  he  had  twenty 
men  from  the  village  at  work  on  the  house,  making 
repairs,  and  that  they  worked  cheerfully  and 
seemed  to  like  his  way  of  doing  things.  Since 
Ferdinando  is  dead  there  is  no  one  to  lead  an 
opposition.  They  are  all  very  poor  and  very  glad 
to  earn  money." 

"It  may  be  as  you  say,"  said  Corona,  only  par- 
tially reassured.  "I  do  not  understand  the  con- 
dition of  life  there,  of  course,  and  I  know  that 
when  you  promise  to  answer  for  Ippolito  you  are 
in  earnest,  and  will  keep  your  word.  But  I  am 
anxious  —  very  anxious." 

"I  am  sorry,  mother,"  replied  Orsino.  "I  am 
very  sorry.  But  you  will  soon  see  that  you  have 
no  reason  to  be  anxious.  That  is  all  I  can  say. 
I  will  answer  for  him  with  my  life." 

"That  is  a  mere  phrase,  Orsino,"  said  Corona, 
gravely,  "  like  a  great  many  things  one  says  when 
one  is  very  much  in  earnest.  If  anything  hap- 
pened to  him,  your  life  would  be  still  more  pre- 
cious to  me  than  it  is,  if  that  were  possible.  You 
all  think  that  because  I  am  often  anxious  about 
him,  he  is  my  favourite.  You  do  not  understand 
me,  any  of  you.  I  love  you  all  equally,  but  I  am 
not  equally  anxious  about  you  all,  and  my  love 
shows  itself  most  for  the  one  who  seems  the  least 
strong  and  able  to  fight  the  world." 

"  For  that  matter,  mother,  Ippolito  is  as  able  to 


244  CORLEONE 

fight  his  own  battles  as  the  strongest  of  us.  He 
is  obstinate  to  a  degree  hardly  anyone  can  under- 
stand. He  has  the  quiet,  sound,  uncompromising 
obstinacy  of  the  Christian  martyrs.  People  who 
have  that  sort  of  character  are  not  weak,  and  they 
are  generally  very  well  able  to  take  care  of  them- 
selves." 

"  Yes,  I  know  he  is  obstinate.  That  is,  when  he 
insists  upon  going  with  you." 

Corona  was  very  far  from  being  satisfied,  and 
Orsino  felt  that  in  spite  of  what  she  had  said  she 
was  in  reality  laying  upon  him  the  responsibility 
for  his  brother's  safety.  He  himself  felt  no  anx- 
iety on  that  score,  however.  In  Rome,  many  hun- 
dreds of  miles  away  from  Camaldoli,  even  the 
things  which  had  really  happened  during  his  brief 
stay  in  Sicily  got  an  air  of  improbability  and  dis- 
tance which  made  further  complications  of  the 
same  sort  seem  almost  impossible.  Besides,  he 
had  the  promise  of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior 
that  a  company  of  infantry  should  shortly  be 
quartered  at  Santa  Vittoria,  which  would  mate- 
rially increase  the  safety  of  the  whole  neighbour- 
hood. 

Orsino's  principal  preoccupation  was  to  see  Vit- 
toria again,  alone,  before  he  left.  In  the  hope  of 
meeting  her  he  went  to  a  garden  party,  and  in  the 
evening  to  two  houses  where  she  had  gone  fre- 
quently during  the  winter  with  her  mother.  But 


COBLEONE  245 

she  did  not  appear.  Her  mother  was  ill,  and  Vit- 
toria  stayed  at  .home  with  her.  Her  brothers,  on 
the  contrary,  were  everywhere,  always  smiling  and 
apparently  well  satisfied  with  the  world. 

It  was  said  that  Tebaldo  was  trying  to  marry  an 
American  heiress,  and  Orsino  twice  saw  him  talk- 
ing with  the  young  stranger,  who  was  reported  to 
have  untold  millions,  and  was  travelling  with  an 
aunt,  Avho  seemed  to  have  as  many  more  of  her 
own.  He  looked  at  the  girl  without  much  curi- 
osity, for  the  type  has  become  familiar  in  Europe 
of  late  years. 

Miss  Lizzie  Slayback — for  that  was  her  name  — 
was  undeniably  pretty,  though  emphatically  not 
beautiful.  She  was  refined  in  appearance,  too, 
but  not  distinguished.  One  could  not  have  said 
that  she  was  'nobody,'  as  the  phrase  goes,  yet 
no  one  would  have  said,  at  first  sight,  that  she 
was  'somebody.'  Yet  she  had  an  individuality 
of  her  own,  which  was  particularly  apparent  in 
her  present  surroundings,  a  sort  of  national  indi- 
viduality, which  contrasted  with  the  extremely 
de-nationalized  appearance  and  manner  of  Roman 
society.  For  the  Romans  of  the  great  houses  have 
for  generations  intermarried  with  foreigners  from 
all  parts  of  Europe,  until  such  strongly  Latin  types 
as  the  Saracinesca  are  rare. 

Miss  Slayback  was  neither  tall  nor  short,  and 
she  had  that  sort  of  generally  satisfactory  figure 


246  CORLEONE 

which  has  no  particular  faults  and  which  is  ex- 
tremely easy  to  dress  well.  Her  feet  were  exqui- 
site, her  hands  small,  but  not  pretty.  She  had 
beautiful  teeth,  but  all  her  features  lacked  model- 
ling, though  they  were  all  in  very  good  proportion. 
Her  head  was  of  a  good  shape,  and  her  hair  was  of 
a  glossy  brown,  and  either  waved  naturally  or  was 
made  to  wave  by  some  very  skilful  hand.  She  had 
dark  blue  eyes  with  strong  dark  lashes,  which 
atoned  in  a  measure  for  a  certain  uninteresting 
flatness  and  absence  of  character  about  the  brows 
and  temples,  and  especially  below  the  eyes  them- 
selves and  at  the  angles,  where  lies  a  principal 
seat  of  facial  expression.  She  spoke  French  flu- 
ently but  with  a  limited  and  uninteresting  vocabu- 
lary, so  that  she  often  made  exactly  the  same 
remarks  about  very  different  subjects.  Yet  her 
point  of  view  being  quite  different  from  that  of 
Romans,  they  listened  to  what  she  said  with  sur- 
prise, and  sometimes  with  interest. 

Her  aunt  was  not  really  her  aunt,  but  her 
uncle's  wife,  Mrs.  Benjamin  Slaybackj  whose 
maiden  name  had  been  Charlotte  Lauderdale  —  a 
fact  which  meant  a  great  deal  in  New  York  and 
nothing  at  all  in  Rome.  She  was  an  ambitious 
woman,  well  born  and  well  educated,  and  her 
husband  had  been  a  member  of  Congress  and  was 
now  a  senator  for  Nevada.  He  was  fabulously 
rich,  and  his  wife,  who  had  married  him  for  his 


COBLEONE  247 

money,  having  been  brought  up  poor,  had  lately 
inherited  a  vast  fortune  of  her  own.  Miss  Lizzie 
Slayback  was  the  only  daughter  of  Senator  Slay- 
back's  elder  brother. 

Orsino  was  told  a  great  many  of  these  facts,  and 
they  did  not  interest  him  in  the  least,  for  he  had 
never  thought  of  marrying  a  foreign  heiress.  T5ut 
he  was  quite  sure  from  the  first  that  Tebaldo  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  get  the  girl  if  he  could.  The 
Slaybacks  had  been  in  Rome  about  a  month,  but 
Orsino  had  not  chanced  to  see  them,  and  did  not 
know  how  long  Tebaldo  might  have  known  them. 
It  was  said  that  they  did  not  mean  to  stay  much 
longer,  and  Tebaldo  was  doing  his  best  to  make 
good  his  running  in  the  short  time  that  remained. 

It  chanced  that  the  first  time  Orsino  came  face 
to  face  with  Tebaldo  was  when  the  latter  had  just 
been  talking  with  Miss  Slayback  and  was  flatter- 
ing himself  that  he  had  made  an  unusually  good 
impression  upon  her.  He  was,  therefore,  in  a 
singularly  good  humour,  for  a  man  whose  temper 
was  rarely  good  and  was  often  very  bad  indeed. 
The  two  men  met  in  a  crowded  room.  Without 
hesitation  Tebaldo  held  out  his  hand  cordially  to 
Orsino. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you  safely  back,"  he 
said,  with  a  great  appearance  of  frankness.  "  You 
are  the  hero  of  the  hour,  you  know." 

For   a  moment   even   Orsino   was   confused   by 


248  COELEONE 

the  man's  easy  manner.  Even  the  eyes  did  not 
betray  resentment.  He  said  something  by  way  of 
greeting. 

"I  have  had  some  difficulty  in  making  out  who 
the  brigand  was  whom  you  shot,"  continued 
Tebaldo.  "It  is  an  odd  coincidence.  We  think 
it  must  have  been  one  of  the  Pagliuca  di  Bauso. 
There  is  a  distant  branch  of  the  family  —  rather 
down  in  the  world,  I  believe  —  it  must  have  been 
one  of  them." 

"  I  am  glad  it  was  no  nearer  relation, "  answered 
Orsino,  not  knowing  what  to  say. 

"No  near  relative  of  mine  would  have  been 
likely  to  be  in  such  company,"  answered  the  Sicil- 
ian, rather  stiffly,  for  he  was  a  good  actor  when 
not  angry. 

"No  —  of  course  not  —  I  did  not  mean  to  sug- 
gest such  a  thing.  It  was  an  odd  coincidence,  of 
course."  Orsino  tried  not  to  look  incredulous. 

Tebaldo  was  about  to  pass  on,  when  an  idea 
presented  itself  to  Orsino's  mind,  of  which  he  had 
not  thought  before  now.  Slow  men  sometimes 
make  up  their  minds  suddenly,  and  not  having 
the  experience  of  habitually  acting  upon  impulses, 
they  are  much  more  apt  to  make  mistakes,  on  the 
rare  occasions  when  they  are  carried  away  by  an 
idea,  and  do  so.  It  seemed  to  him  that  if  he  were 
ever  to  speak  to  either  of  Vittoria's  brothers  about 
marrying  her,  this  was  the  moment  to  do  so.  It 


COS  LEONE  249 

would  be  impossible  for  Tebaldo,  in  an  instant,  to 
deny  what  lie  had  just  now  said,  and  it  would  be 
hard  for  him  to  find  a  pretext  for  refusing  to  give 
his  sister  to  such  a  man.  The  whole  thing  might 
be  carried  through  by  a  surprise,  and  Orsino  would 
take  the  consequences  afterwards,  and  laugh  at 
them,  if  he  were  once  safely  married. 

Tebaldo  had  already  turned  away  to  speak  to 
someone  else,  and  Orsino  went  after  him  and 
called  him  back. 

"  There  is  a  matter  about  which  I  should  like  to 
speak  to  you,  Don  Tebaldo,"  he  said.  "Can  we 
get  out  of  this  crowd  ? " 

Tebaldo  looked  at  him  quickly  and  sharply, 
before  he  answered  by  a  nod.  The  two  men 
moved  away  together  to  the  outer  rooms,  of  which 
there  were  three  or  four,  stiffly  furnished  with 
pier  tables  and  high-backed  gilt  chairs,  as  in  most 
old  Koman  houses.  When  they  were  alone,  Orsino 
stopped. 

"It  is  an  important  matter,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  I  wish  to  speak  with  you,  as  being  the  head  of 
your  family."  ... 

"Yes,"  answered  Tebaldo,  and  the  lids  drooped, 
vulture-like,  at  the  corners  of  his  eyes,  as  he  met 
Orsino's  look  steadily.  "By  all  means.  We  shall 
not  be  interrupted  here.  I  am  at  your  service." 

"  I  wish  to  marry  your  sister,  and  I  desire  your 
consent,"  said  Orsino.  "  That  is  the  whole  matter." 


250  CORLEONE 

It  would  have  been  impossible  to  guess  from  the 
Sicilian's  face  whether  he  had  ever  anticipated 
such  a  proposition  or  not.  There  was  absolutely 
no  change  in  his  expression. 

"My  sister  is  a  very  charming  and  desirable 
young  girl,"  he  said  rather  formally.  "As  there 
seems  to  be  a  good  deal  of  liberty  allowed  to  young 
girls  in  Home,  as  compared  with  Sicily,  you  will 
certainly  pardon  me  if  I  ask  whether  you  have 
good  reason  to  suppose  that  she  prefers  you  in  any 
way." 

"I  have  good  reason  for  supposing  so,"  answered 
Orsino,  but  he  felt  the  blood  rising  to  his  face  as 
he  spoke,  for  he  did  not  like  to  answer  such  a 
question. 

"I  congratulate  you,"  said  Tebaldo,  smiling  a 
little,  but  not  pleasantly.  "Personally,  I  should 
also  congratulate  myself  on  the  prospect  of  having 
such  a  brother-in-law.  I  presume  you  are  aware 
that  my  sister  has  no  dowry.  We  were  ruined  by 
my  uncle  Corleone." 

.  "  It  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference, "  replied 
Orsino. 

"You  are  generous.  I  presume  that  you  have 
inherited  some  private  fortune  of  your  own,  have 
you  not  ?  " 

"No.     I  am  dependent  on  my  father." 

"Then  —  pardon  my  practical  way  of  looking 
at  the  affair,"  said  Tebaldo,  accentuating  his  smile 


CORLEONE  251 

a  little,  "but,  as  a  mere  formality,  I  think  that 
there  must  be  some  proposal  from  the  head  of  your 
house.  You  see,  you  and  Vittoria  will  be  depen- 
dent on  an  allowance  from  your  father,  who,  again, 
is  doubtless  dependent  on  your  grandfather,  Prince 
Saracinesca.  As  my  poor  sister  has  nothing,  there 
must  necessarily  be  some  understanding  about  such 
an  allowance." 

"It  is  just,"  answered  Orsino,  but  he  bit  his 
lip.  "  My  father  has  an  independent  estate, "  he 
added,  by  way  of  correction.  "And  my  mother 
has  all  the  Astrardente  property." 

"There  is  no  lack  of  fortune  on  your  side,  my 
dear  Don  Orsino.  You  are,  of  course,  sure  of 
your  father's  consent,  so  that  an  interview  with 
him  will  be  a  mere  formality.  For  myself,  I  give 
you  my  hand  heartily  and  wish  you  well.  I  shall 
be  happy  to  meet  the  Prince  of  Sant'  Ilario  at  any 
time  which  may  be  agreeable  to  him." 

Orsino  felt  that  the  man  had  got  the  better  of 
him,  but  he  had  to  take  the  proffered  hand. 
Mentally  he  wondered  what  strange  monster  this 
Tebaldo  Pagliuca  could  be  within  himself,  to 

+ 

grasp  the  hand  that  had  killed  his  brother  less 
than  a  week  ago,  welcoming  its  owner  as  his 
brother-in-law.  But  he  saw  that  the  very  simple 
and  natural  request  for  an  interview  with  his 
father  would  probably  prove  a  source  of  almost 
insurmountable  difficulty. 


252  CORLEONE 

"  I  had  hoped, "  he  said,  "  to  have  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  Donna  Vittoria  here  this  evening.  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  return  to  Sicily  in  a  day  or  two. 
May  I  see  her  at  your  house  before  I  go?" 

Tebaldo  hesitated  a  moment. 

"You  will  find  her  at  home  with  my  mother 
to-morrow  afternoon,"  he  answered  almost  imme- 
diately. "I  see  no  reason  why  you  should  not 
call." 

"But  your  mother  —  "     Orsino  stopped  short. 

"  What  were  you  going  to  say  ? "  enquired 
Tebaldo,  blandly. 

"  You  will  be  kind  enough  to  tell  her  that  I  am 
coming,  will  you  not?"  Orsino  saw  that  he  was 
getting  into  a  terribly  difficult  situation. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Tebaldo  answered.  "I  shall  take 
great  pleasure  in  announcing  you.  She  is  better, 
I  am  glad  to  say,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  this 
good  news  will  completely  restore  her." 

Orsino  felt  a  vague  danger  circling  about  his 
heart,  as  a  hawk  sails  in  huge  curves  that  narrow 
one  by  one  until  he  strikes  his  prey.  The  man 
was  subtle  and  ready  to  take  advantage  of  the 
smallest  circumstance  with  unerring  foresight 
while  wholly  concealing  his  real  intention. 

"Come  at  three  o'clock,  if  it  is  convenient," 
concluded  Tebaldo.  "And  now  — "  he  looked  at 
his  watch  —  "you  will  forgive  me  if  I  leave  you. 
I  have  an  engagement  which  I  must  keep." 


CORLEONE  253 

He  shook  hands  again  with  great  cordiality,  and 
they  parted.  Tebaldo  went  out  directly,  without 
returning  to  the  inner  rooms,  but  Orsino  went 
back  to  stay  half  an  hour  longer.  Out  of  curi- 
osity he  got  a  friend  to  introduce  him  to  Miss 
Lizzie  Slayback. 

The  girl  looked  up  with  a  bright  smile  when 
she  heard  the  great  name. 

"I  have  so  much  wanted  to  meet  you,"  she 
said  quickly.  "You  are  the  man  who  killed  the 
brigand,  are  you  not  ?  Do  tell  me  all  about 
it!" 

He  was  annoyed,  for  he  could  not  escape,  but  he 
resigned  himself  and  told  the  story  in  the  fewest 
possible  words. 

"  How  interesting  ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Slayback. 
"  And  we  all  thought  he  was  the  brother  of  Don 
Tebaldo.  You  know  Don  Tebaldo,  of  course  ?  I 
think  he  is  a  perfect  beauty,  and  so  kind." 

Orsino  had  never  thought  of  Tebaldo  Pagliuca 
as  either  kind  or  beautiful,  and  he  said  something 
that  meant  nothing,  in  reply. 

"  Oh,  you  arej.  jealous  of  him ! "  cried  the  girl, 
laughing.  "Of  course!  All  the  men  are." 

Orsino  got  away  as  soon  as  he  could.  As  a 
necessary  formality  he  was  introduced  to  Mrs. 
Slayback.  He  asked  her  an  idle  question  about 
how  she  liked  Rome,  such  as  all  Romans  ask  all 
foreigners  about  whom  they  know  nothing. 


"  How  late  is  it  safe  to  stay  here  ?  "  she  asked, 
with  singular  directness,  by  way  of  an  answer. 

"Home  becomes  unhealthy  in  August,"  said 
Orsino.  "  The  first  rains  bring  the  fever.  Until 

^N 

then  it  is  perfectly  safe,  and  one  can  return  in 
October  without  danger.  The  bad  time  lasts  for 
six  weeks  to  two  months,  at  most." 

"Thank  you,"  answered  Mrs.  Slay  back,  with  a 
little  laugh.  "We  shall  not  stay  till  August,  I 
think.  It  would  be  too  hot.  I  suppose  that  it  is 
hot  in  June." 

"Yes,"  said  Orsino,  absently.  "I  suppose  that 
you  would  find  it  hot  in  June." 

He  wanted  to  be  alone,  and  he  left  her  as  soon  as 
he  could.  He  walked  home  in  the  warm  night  and 
reviewed  his  position,  which  had  suddenly  become 
complicated.  It  was  clear  that  he  must  now  speak 
to  his  father,  since  he  had  committed  the  folly  of 
making  his  proposal  to  Tebaldo.  It  was  almost 
certain  that  his  father  would  refuse  to  hear  of  the 
marriage,  on  any  consideration,  and  he  knew  that 
his  mother  disapproved  of  it.  It  was  clear  also 
"^£hat  he  could  not  avoid  going  to  call  upon  Vittoria 
and  her  mother  on  the  following  afternoon,  but  he 
could  not  understand  why  Tebaldo  had  pretended 
to  be  so  sure  that  he  should  be  received,  when  he 
himself  was  tolerably  certain  that  Maria  Carolina 
would  refuse  to  see  him.  That,  however,  was  a 
simple  matter.  He  should  ask  for  her,  and  on 


CORLEONE  255 

being  told  that  she  could  not  receive,  he  should 
leave  his  card  and  go  away.  But  that  would  not 
help  him  to  see  Vittoria,  and  it  was  in  order  to  see 
her  alone  before  he  left  that  he  had  suddenly 
determined  to  make  his  proposal  to  Tebaldo. 

He  had  got  himself  into  a  rather  serious  scrape, 
and  he  was  not  gifted  with  more  tact  than  the  rest 
of  his  bold  but  tactless  race.  He  therefore  decided 
upon  the  only  course  which  is  open  to  such  a  man, 
which  was  to  take  his  difficulties,  one  by  one,  in 
their  natural  order  and  deal  with  each  as  best  he 
could. 

He  had  nothing  more  to  hope  from  his  mother's 
intervention.  He  knew  her  unchangeable  nature 
and  was  well  aware  that  she  would  now  hold  her 
position  to  the  last.  She  would  not  oppose  his 
wishes,  and  that  was  a  great  deal  gained,  but  she 
would  not  help  him  either. 

Early  on  the  following  morning  he  went  to 
Sant'  Ilario's  own  room,  feeling  that  he  had  a 
struggle  before  him  in  which  he  was  sure  to  be 
defeated,  but  which  he  could  not  possibly  avoid. 
His  father  was  Beading  the  paper  over  his  coffee 
by  the  open  window,  a  square,  iron-grey  figure 
clad  in  a  loose  grey  jacket.  The  room  smelt  of 
coffee  and  cigarettes.  Sant'  Ilario's  perfect  con- 
tentment and  happiness  in  his  surroundings  .made 
him  a  particularly  difficult  person  to  approach 
suddenly  with  a  crucial  question.  His  serene 


256  COELEONE 

felicity  made  a  sort  of  resisting  shell  around  him, 
through  which  it  was  necessary  to  break  before 
he  himself  could  be  reached. 

He  looked  up  and  nodded  as  Orsino  entered. 
Such  visits  from  his  sons  were  of  daily  occurrence, 
and  he  expected  nothing  unusual.  It  was  of  no 
use  to  beat  about  the  bush,  and  Orsino  attacked 
the  main  question  at  once. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  about  a  serious  matter, 
father,"  he  said,  sitting  down  opposite  Sant'  Ilario. 

"  I  wish  Sicily  were  in  China,  and  San  Giacinto 
in  Peru,"  was  the  answer. 

"It  has  nothing  to  do  with  San  Giacinto,"  said 
Orsino.  "I  want  to  be  married." 

Sant'  Ilario  looked  up  sharply,  in  surprise. 
His  eldest  son's  marriage  was  certainly  a  serious 
matter. 

"To  whom?"  he  enquired. 

"To  Vittoria  d'Oriani,"  said  Orsino,  squaring 
his  naturally  square  jaw,  in  anticipation  of  trouble. 

Sant'  Ilario  dropped  the  paper,  took  his  ciga- 
rette from  his  lips,  and  crossed  one  leg  over  the 
other  angrily. 

"I  was  afraid  so,"  he  said.  "You  are  a  fool. 
Go  back  to  Sicily  and  do  not  talk  nonsense." 

The  Saracinesca  men  had  never  minced  matters 
in  telling  each  other  what  they  thought. 

"  I  expected  that  you  would  say  something  like 
that,"  answered  Orsino. 


COELEONE  257 

"Then  why  the  devil  did  you  come  to  me  at 
all?"  enquired  his  father,  his  grey  hair  bristling 
and  his  eyebrows  meeting. 

But  Orsiuo  was  not  like  him,  being  colder 
and  slower  in  every  way,  and  less  inclined  to 
anger. 

"  I  came  to  you  because  I  had  no  choice  but  to 
come,"  he  answered  quietly.  "I  love  her,  she 
loves  me,  and  we  are  engaged  to  be  married.  It 
was  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  speak  to 
you." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  necessity,  since  you  knew  very 
well  that  I  should  not  consent." 

"  You  must  consent  in  the  end,  father  —  " 

"I  will  not.  That  ends  it.  It  is  the  worst 
blood  in  Italy,  and  some  of  the  worst  blood  in 
Europe.  Corleone  was  a  scoundrel,  his  father  was 
a  traitor  —  " 

"  That  does  not  affect  Donna  Vittoria  so  far  as 
I  can  see,"  said  Orsino,  stubbornly. 

"It  affects  the  whole  family.  Besides,  if  they 
are  decent  people,  they  will  not  consent  either.  It 
is  not  a  week  since  you  killed  Ferdinando  Pagliuca 
—  Vittoria's  brother  —  " 

"They  deny  it." 

"They  lie,  I  believe." 

"That  is  their  affair,"  said  Orsino. 

"The  fact  does  not  beautify  their  family  char- 
acter, either,"  retorted  Sant'  Ilario.  "With  the 

VOL.  I. — 3 


258 


CORLEONE 


whole  of  Europe  to  choose  from,  excepting  a  dozen 
;  royalties,  you  must  needs'  fall  in  love  with  the 
sister  of  a  brigand,  the  niece  of  a  scoundrel,  the 
granddaughter  of  —  " 

"Yes  —  you  have  said  all  that.  But  I  have 
promised  to  marry  her,  and  that  is  a  side  of  the 
question  of  which  you  cannot  get  rid  so  easily." 

"  You  did  not  promise  her  my  consent,  I  sup- 
pose. I  will  not  give  it.  If  you  choose  to  marry 
without  it,  I  cannot  hinder  you.  You  can  take 
her  and  live  on  her  dowry,  if  she  has  one." 

"She  has  nothing." 

"  Then  you  may  live  by  your  wits.  You  shall 
have  nothing  more  from  me." 

"If  the  wits  of  the  family  had  ever  been  worth 
mentioning,  I  should  ask  nothing  more,"  observed 
Orsino,  coldly.  "Unfortunately  they  are  not  a 
sufficient  provision.  You  are  forcing  me  into  the 
position  of  breaking  my  word  to  a  woman." 

"If  neither  her  parents  nor  yours  will  consent 
to  your  marriage,  you  are  not  breaking  your  en- 
gagement. They  will  not  give  her  to  you  if  you 
cannot  support  her.  Of  course,  you  can  wait 
until  I  die.  Judging  from  my  father,  and  from 
my  own  state  of  health  at  present,  it  will  be  a 
long  engagement." 

Orsino  was  silent  for  a  moment.  He  did  not 
lose  his  temper  even  now,  but  he  tried  to  devise 
some  means  of  moving  Sant'  Ilario. 


CORLEONE  259 

"I  spoke  to  Tebalclo  Pagliuca  last  night,"  he 
said,  after  a  pause.  "  In  spite  of  what  you  seem 
to  expect,  he  accepted  my  proposition,  so  far  as 
he  could." 

"  Then  he  is  an  even  greater  villain  than  I  had 
supposed  him  to  be,"  returned  Sant'  Ilario. 

"  That  is  no  reason  why  you  should  force  me  to 
humiliate  myself  to  him  —  " 

"  Send  him  to  me,  if  you  are  afraid  to  face  him. 
I  will  explain  the  situation  —  I  will  —  " 

"You  will  simply  quarrel  with  him,  father. 
You  would  insult  him  in  the  first  three  words  you 
spoke." 

"That  is  very  probable,"  said  Sant'  Ilario.  "I 
should  like  to.  He  has  been  scheming  to  catch 
you  for  his  sister  ever  since  the  evening  they  first 
dined  here.  But  I  did  not, think  you  were  such  a 
childish  idiot  as  to  be  caught  so  easily." 

"No  one  has  caught  me,  as  you  call  it.  I  love 
Vittoria  d'Oriani,  and  she  loves  me.  You  have  no 
right  to  keep  us  apart  because  you  did  not  approve 
of  her  grandfather  and  uncle." 

"  No  right  ?  *I  have  no  right,  you  say  ?  Then 
who  has  ?  " 

"No  one,"  answered  Orsino,  simply. 

"I  have  the  power,  at  all  events,"  retorted  his 
father.  "I  would  not  have  you  marry  her  — 
would  not  ?  I  will  not.  It  is  materially  impos- 
sible for  you  to  marry  with  no  money  at  all,  and 


260  COELEONE 

you  shall  have  none.  Talk  no  more  about  it,  or 
I  shall  positively  lose  my  temper." 

It  occurred  to  Orsino  that  it  was  positively  lost 
already,  but  as  he  kept  his  own,  he  did  not  say  so. 
He  rose  from  his  seat  and  calmly  lighted  a  ciga- 
rette. 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,  I  sup- 
pose," he  observed. 

"Nothing  more  on  that  subject,"  answered  Sant' 
Ilario.  "Not  that  I  have  the  least  objection  to 
saying  over  again  all  I  have  said,"  he  added. 

"  At  all  events,  you  do  not  pretend  that  you  have 
any  objection  to  Donna  Vittoria  herself,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No  —  except  that  she  has  made  a  fool  of  you. 
Most  women  make  fools  of  men,  sooner  or  later." 

"  Perhaps,  but  you  should  be  the  last  person  to 
say  so,  I  think." 

"I  married  with  my  father's  consent,"  replied 
Sant'  Ilario,  as  though  the  fact  were  an  unanswer- 
able argument.  "If  I  had  made  to  him  such  a 
proposition  as  you  are  making  to  me,  he  would 
have  answered  in  a  very  different  way,  my  boy, 
I  can  tell  you !  " 

"  In  what  way  ?  "  asked  Orsino. 

"In  what  way?  Why,  he  would  have  been 
furiously  angry  !  He  would  have  called  me  a  fool 
and  an  idiot,  and  would  have  told  me  to  go  to  the 
devil." 

Orsino  laughed  in  spite  of  himself. 


COBLEONE  261 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ? "  enquired  Sant' 
Ilario,  sharply,  growing  hot  again  in  a  moment. 

"Those  are  exactly  the  words  you  have  been 
saying  to  me,"  answered  Orsino. 

"  I  ?  Have  I  ?  Well  —  that  only  proves  that  I 
am  like  my  father,  then.  And  a  very  good  thing, 
too.  It  is  a  pity  that  you  are  not  more  like  me 
than  you  are.  We  should  understand  each  other 
better." 

"We  may  yet  understand  each  other,"  said 
Orsino,  lingering  in  the  vain  hope  of  finding  some 
new  argument. 

"No  doubt.     But  not  about  this  matter." 

Seeing  that  it  was  useless  to  prolong  the  discus- 
sion, Orsino  went  away  to  think  matters  over.  He 
had  been  quite  sure  of  his  father's  answer,  of 
course,  but  that  did  not  improve  the  situation  at 
all.  It  had  been  a  necessity  of  conscience  and 
honour  to  go  to  him,  after  speaking  to  Tebaldo  on 
the  previous  evening,  because  it  was  not  possible 
to  take  his  answer  for  granted.  But  now  it  became 
equally  a  duty  of  honour  and  self-respect  to  com- 
municate to  Tebaldo  what  Sant'  Ilario  had  said, 
and  to  do  so  was  a  most  unpleasant  humiliation. 
He  cared  nothing  for  the  fact  that  his  father's 
refusal  might  almost  seem  like  an  insult  to  Tebaldo 
Pagliuca,  though  he  could  not  quite  see  how  he  could 
make  the  communication  without  giving  offence. 
The  real  trouble  was  that  he  should  be  practically 


262  COR  LEONE 

obliged  to  take  back  what  he  had  said,  and  to  say 
that  after  all,  in  the  face  of  his  family's  objec- 
tions, he  could  not  marry  Vittoria  at  present,  and 
saw  no  prospect  of  being  able  to  marry  her  in  the 
future. 

At  the  same  time  he  wondered  how  much  Te- 
baldo  had  told  his  mother.  She  also,  according 
to  Vittoria' s  statement,  would  oppose  their  mar- 
riage with  all  her  power.  Yet  Tebaldo  had  pro- 
fessed himself  quite  certain  that  she  would  receive 
Orsino  when  he  called.  There  was  something 
mysterious  about  that. 

Orsino  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  ask  for 
Tebaldo  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  time  named 
by  the  latter,  and  get  over  the  disagreeable  inter- 
view before  making  an  attempt  to  have  a  word 
with  Vittoria  alone. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

OBSIXO  reached  the  Corleone's  house  before  three 
o'clock  on  that  afternoon.  They  lived  on  the  sec- 
ond floor  of  a  large  new  building  in  the  Via  Venti 
Settembre,  'Twentieth  of  September  Street,'  as  it 
would  be  in  English,  so  named  to  commemorate 
the  taking  of  Rome  on  that  day  in  1870. 

A  porter  in  livery  asked  Orsino  whom  he  wished 
to  see,  rang  an  electric  bell,  spoke  through  a  speak- 
iiig-tube,  took  off  his  cocked  hat  in  order  to  listen 
for  the  answer,  and  finally  told  Orsino  that  he 
would  be  received.  There  is  always  something 
mysterious  to  the  looker-on  about  any  such  means 
of  communication  at  a  distance,  when  he  does  not 
hear  the  voice  speaking  from  the  other  end. 

It  would  not  have  surprised  Orsino,  if  he  had 
heard,  as  the  porter  did,  that  the  answer  came 
back  in  Tebaldo  Pagliuca's  voice;  but  he  would 
then  not  have  been  so  much  surprised,  either,  at 
being  admitted  so  readily.  Tebaldo,  in  fact,  had 
told  the  porter  to  send  the  visitor  up,  for  he  had 
been  waiting  for  the  porter's  bell ;  but  he  then  told 
his  servant  that  a  gentleman  was  coming  iipstairs 
to  see  him,  who  was  to  be  shown  into  the  drawing- 
263 


2G4  CORLEONE 

room  at  once,  whither  Tebaldo  himself  would  pres- 
ently come. 

Tebaldo  had  been  quite  sure  that  his  mother  and 
sister  would  be  at  home  at  that  hour,  since  the 
former  was  not  yet  well  enough  to  go  out ;  he  had 
been  equally  sure  that  his  mother  would  refuse 
to  receive  Orsino;  he  had,  therefore,  so  arranged 
matters  that  Orsino  should  be  ushered  into  her 
presence  unexpectedly,  and  to  accomplish  this  he 
had  lain  in  wait  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
speaking-tube,  which  came  up  into  the  hall  of  his 
apartment  just  inside  the  door  opening  upon  the 
stairs. 

So  far  the  explanation  of  what  happened  is 
quite  simple.  It  would  be  a  different  thing  to  un- 
ravel the  complicated  and  passionate  workings  of 
Tebaldo's  intricate  thoughts.  In  the  first  place, 
in  spite  of  his  behaviour  in  public,  he  hated  Orsino 
with  all  his  heart  for  having  unwittingly  killed 
his  brother,  and  important  as  the  advantages 
would  be,  if  Vittoria  married  the  heir  of  the  great 
house,  they  by  no  means  outweighed  his  desire  for 
revenge. 

Tebaldo  was  not  an  inhuman  monster,  though  a 
specialist  might  have  said  that  he  had  a  strong 
tendency  to  criminality.  He  was  capable  of  affec- 
tion in  a  certain  degree,  apart  from  mere  passion. 
He  was  unscrupulous,  treacherous,  tortuous  in  his 
reasonings ;  but  he  was  above  all  tenacious,  and 


CORLEONE  265 

lie  was  endowed  with  much  boldness  and  daring, 
of  the  kind  which  cast  a  romantic  glamour  over 
crimes  of  violence. 

It  had  been  one  thing  to  threaten  Ferdinando 
with  the  law,  if  he  refused  to  sign  the  deed  by 
which  Camaldoli  was  to  be  sold.  It  was  quite 
another  matter  to  give  his  sister  to  the  man  who 
had  shot  Ferdinando  like  a  wild  animal.  There 
the  man's  humanity  had  revolted,  though  Orsino 
had  not  guessed  it,  when  they  had  met  and  talked 
together  at  the  party  on  the  previous  evening. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  cunning  bade  him  not  to 
put  himself  in  the  position  of  refusing  Orsiiio's 
request,  seeing  that  he  denied  his  own  relationship 
with  his  dead  brother.  It  was  easy  enough  for 
him  to  bring  Orsino  and  his  mother  unexpectedly 
face  to  face,  and  to  let  the  young  man  hear  from 
her  lips  what  she  thought  of  such  a  union,  if 
indeed  the  interview  should  ever  get  so  far  as 
that.  Tebaldo  could  then  calmly  intrench  himself 
behind  his  mother's  refusal,  and  yet  maintain  out- 
ward relations  with  Orsino,  while  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  avenge  his  brother,  which  was  sure 
to  present  itself  sooner  or  later. 

Orsino  mounted  the  stairs  resolutely,  squaring  him- 
self to  meet  Tebaldo  and  tell  him  of  Sant'  Ilario's 
refusal  as  briefly  and  courteously  as  he  could.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  half  painfully  and  half  happily 
conscious  of  Vittoria's  presence  in  the  house.  The 


266  COBLEONE 

pain  arid  the  pleasure  were  intermittent  and  un- 
certain. 

A  servant  was  waiting  and  holding  the  door 
ajar. 

"  Don  Tebaldo  said  that  he  would  see  me,"  said 
Orsino,  mechanically. 

The  man  bowed  in  silence,  shut  the  door  upon 
the  landing,  and  then  led  the  way  through  the 
little  hall  and  the  antechamber  beyond,  opened  a 
door,  and  stood  aside  to  let  Orsino  pass. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  him,  he  heard  a  short 
and  sharp  cry  in  the  room,  like  the  warning  note 
of  certain  fierce  wild  animals.  It  was  followed 
instantly  by  an  exclamation  of  terror  in  another 
voice.  At  the  same  instant  he  was  aware  that 
there  were  two  women  in  the  room,  —  Maria  Caro- 
lina d'Oriani  and  her  daughter. 

The  mother  had  been  lying  on  a  couch,  and  on 
seeing  him  had  started  up,  supporting  herself  on 
her  hand.  The  room  was  half  darkened  by  the 
partly  closed  blinds. 

Maria  Carolina  was  dressed  in  a  loose  black  gown 
with  wide  sleeves  that  showed  her  thin,  bare  arms, 
for  the  weather  was  warm.  Her  white  face  was 
thin  and  ghastly,  and  her  dark  eyes  gleamed  as 
they  caught  a  little  of  the  light  from  the  window. 
Orsino  stood  still  two  paces  from  the  door. 

"  Assassin ! " 

The  one  word  —  a  word  of  the  people,  hissed 


CORLEONE  267 

from  her  dry  lips  with  such  horror  and  hatred  as 
Orsino  had  never  heard.  There  was  silence  then. 
Vittoria,  as  white  as  her  mother,  and  in  an  agony 
of  terror,  had  risen,  shrinking  and  convulsed,  grasp- 
ing with  one  hand  the  heavy  inner  curtain  of  the 
window. 

Slowly  the  lean,  dark  woman  left  her  seat,  rais- 
ing one  thin  arm,  and  pointing  straight  at  Orsino's 
face,  her  head  thrown  back,  her  parched  lips  parted 
and  showing  her  teeth. 

"  Murderer ! "  she  cried.  "  You  dare  to  show  me 
your  face  —  you  dare  to  show  me  the  hands  that 
killed  my  son !  You  dare  to  stand  there  before 
God  and  me  —  to  hear  God's  curse  on  you  and 
mine  —  to  answer  for  blood  —  " 

Her  lips  and  throat  were  dry,  so  that  she  could 
not  speak,  but  choked,  and  swallowed  convulsively, 
and  her  eyes  grew  visibly  red.  Orsino  was  riveted 
to  the  spot  and  speechless.  For  a  moment  he  did 
not  even  think  of  Yittoria,  cowering  back  against 
the  curtain.  The  woman's  worn  face  was  changed 
in  her  immense  wrath,  and  he  could  not  take  his 
eyes  from  her.  She  found  her  voice  again,  pain- 
fully, fighting  agafnst  the  fiery  dryness  that  choked 
her. 

"With 'his  innocent  blood  on  your  hands,  you 
come  here  —  you  come  to  face  his  very  mother  in 
her  sacred  grief  —  to  see  my  tears,  to  tear  out  the 
last  shreds  of  my  heart,  to  revile  my  mother's  soul 


268  CORLEONE 

— to  poison  the  air  that  breathes  sorrow!  But  you 
think  that  I  am  weak,  that  I  am  only  a  woman. 
You  think,  perhaps,  that  I  shall  lose  my  senses 
and  faint.  It  would  be  no  shame,  but  I  am  not  of 
such  women." 

Her  voice  gathered  fulness  but  sank  in  tone  as 
she  went  on.  Still  Orsino  said  nothing,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  interrupt  her.  She  must  say  her 
say,  and  curse  her  curse  out,  and  he  must  listen, 
for  he  would  not  turn  and  go. 

"  You  have  come,"  she  said,  speaking  quickly 
and  with  still  rising  fury.  "  I  am  here  to  meet 
you.  I  am  here  to  demand  blood  of  you  for  blood. 
I  am  here  to  curse  you,  and  your  name,  and  your 
race,  your  soul  and  their  souls,  dead  and  living,  in 
the  name  of  God,  who  made  my  son,  of  Christ, 
who  died  for  him,  of  the  Holy  Saints,  who  could 
not  save  him  from  the  devil  you  are  —  in  the  name 
of  God,  and  of  man,  and  of  the  whole  world,  I 
curse  you!  May  your  life  be  a  century  of  cruel 
deaths,  and  when  you  die  at  last  with  a  hundred 
years  of  agony  in  you,  may  your  immortal  soul  be 
damned  everlastingly  a  thousand  fold!  May  you 
pray  and  not  be  heard,  may  you  repent  and  not  be 
forgiven,  may  you  receive  the  Holy  Sacraments  to 
your  damnation  and  the  last  Unction  with  fire  in 
hell!  May  every  living  creature  that  bears  your 
name  come  to  an  evil  before  your  eyes,  your  father 
—  your  mother  —  the  men  and  women  of  your 


CORLEONE  269 

house,  and  your  unborn  children !  Blood  —  I  would 
have  blood !  May  your  blood  pay  for  mine,  and 
your  soul  for  my  son's  soul,  who  died  unconfessed 
in  his  sins  !  Go,  assassin !  go,  murderer  of  the  in- 
nocent! go  out  into  the  world  with  my  mother's 
curse  on  you,  and  may  every  evil  thing  in  earth 
and  hell  be  everlastingly  with  you  and  yours,  living 
and  dead !  Blood !  —  blood !  —  blood !  " 

Her  voice  was  suddenly  and  horribly  extinguished 
in  the  last  word,  as  an  instrument  that  is  strained 
too  far  cracks  in  a  last  discordant  note  and  is  silent. 
She  stood  one  moment  more,  with  outstretched 
hand  and  fingers  that  would  still  make  the  sign  of 
one  more  unspoken  curse,  and  then,  Avithout  warn- 
ing, she  fell  back  in  a  heap  towards  the  couch. 

Simultaneously,  Vittoria  and  Orsino  sprang  for- 
ward to  catch  her,  but  even  before  Vittoria  could 
reach  her  she  lay  motionless  on  the  floor,  her 
head  on  the  edge  of  the  sofa,  her  hands  stretched 
out  on  each  side  of  her,  her  thin  fingers  twitch- 
ing desperately  at  the  carpet.  A  moment  later, 
they  were  still,  too,  and  she  was  unconscious,  as 
the  two  began  to  lift  her  up. 

For  an  instant  neither  looked  at  the  other,  but 
as  Orsino  laid  the  fainting  woman  upon  the  couch, 
he  raised  his  eyes  to  Vittoria's.  The  girl  was  still 
overcome  with  fear  at  the  whole  situation,  and 
trembling  with  horror  at  her  mother's  frightful 
outbreak  of  rage  and  hate.  She  shook  her  head 


270  CO  K  LEONE 

in  a  frightened,  hopeless  way,  as  she  bent  down 
again  and  arranged  a  cushion  for  Maria  Carolina. 

"  Why  did  you  come  —  Avhy  did  you  come  ? " 
she  almost  moaned.  "I  told  you  —  " 

Orsino  saw  that  if  there  was  to  be  any  explana- 
tion, he  must  seize  the  opportunity  at  once. 

"I  felt  that  I  must  see  you  before  leaving," 
he  answered.  "Last  night  I  told  your  brother 
Tebaldo  that  we  were  engaged  to  each  other.  He 
asked  me  to  come  at  three  o'clock,  and  said  that 
your  mother  would  receive  me  —  I  sent  up  word 
to  ask  —  I  was  told  to  come  up." 

"We  knew  nothing  of  your  coming.  It  must 
have  been  the  servant's  fault."  She  did  not  sus- 
pect her  brother  of  having  purposely  brought  about 
the  meeting.  "  Now  go ! "  she  added  quickly. 
"Go,  before  she  comes  to  herself.  Do  not  let 
her  see  you  again.  Go  —  please  go ! " 

"Yes  —  I  had  better  go,"  he  answered.  "Can 
I  not  see  you  again  ?  Vittoria  —  I  cannot  go 
away  like  this  —  " 

As  he  realized  that  it  might  be  long  before  he 
saw  her  again,  his  voice  trembled  a  little,  and 
there  was  a  pleading  accent  in  his  words  which 
she  had  never  heard. 

"Yes  —  no  —  how  can  I  see  you?"  she  faltered. 
"  There  is  no  way  —  no  place  —  when  must  you 
leave  ?  "  Maria  Carolina  stirred,  and  seemed  about 
to  open  her  eyes.  "Go  —  please  go!"  repeated 


CORLEONE  271 

Vittoria,  desperately.  "  She  will  open  her  eyes 
and  see  you,  and  it  will  begin  again!  Oh,  for 
Heaven's  sake  —  " 

Orsino  kissed  her  suddenly  while  she  was  speak- 
ing, once,  sharply,  with  all  his  heart  breaking. 
Then  he  swiftly  left  the  room  without  looking 
back,  almost  trying  not  to  think  of  what  he  was 
doing. 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him.  As  he  turned 
to  look  for  the  way  out,  in  his  confusion  of  mind, 
the  door  opposite,  which  was  ajar,  opened  wide, 
and  he  was  confronted  by  Tebaldo,  who  smiled 
sadly  and  apologetically.  Orsino  stared  at  him. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  had  an  unpleasant 
scene,'7  said  the  Sicilian,  quickly.  "It  was  a 
most  unfortunate  accident  —  a  mistake  of  the 
servant,  who  took  you  for  the  doctor.  The  fact 
is,  my  mother  seems  to  be  out  of  her  mind,  and 
she  will  not  be  persuaded  that  Ferdinando  is  alive 
and  well,  till  she  sees  him.  She  was  so  violent  an 
hour  ago  that  I  sent  for  a  doctor  —  a  specialist 
for  insanity.  I  am  afraid  I  forgot  that  you  were 
coming,  in  my  a»xiety  about  her.  I  hope  you 
will  forgive  me.  Of  course,  you  have  seen  for 
yourself  how  she  feels  towards  you  at  present, 
and  in  any  case  —  at  such  a  time  —  " 

He  had  spoken  so  rapidly  and  plausibly  that 
Orsino  had  not  been  able  to  put  in  a  word.  Now 
he  paused  as  if  expecting  an  answer. 


272  COELEONE 

"  I  regret  to  have  been  the  cause  of  further 
disturbing  your  mother,  who  indeed  seems  to  be 
very  ill,"  said  Orsino,  gravely.  "  I  hope  that  she 
will  soon  recover." 

He  moved  towards  the  outer  hall,  and  Tebaldo 
accompanied  him  to  the  door  of  the  apartment. 

"You  will,  of  course,  understand  that  at  such 
a  time  it  will  be  wiser  not  to  broach  so  serious 
a  matter  as  my  sister's  marriage,"  said  Tebaldo. 
"  Pray  accept  again  my  excuses  for  having  ac- 
cidentally brought  you  into  so  unpleasant  a 
situation." 

He  timed  his  words  so  that  he  uttered  the  last 
when  he  was  already  holding  the  door  open  with 
one  hand  and  stretching  out  the  other  to  Orsino,  who 
had  no  choice  but  to  take  it,  as  he  said  goodbye. 
Tebaldo  closed  the  door  and  stood  still  a  moment 
in  thought  before  he  went  back.  As  he  turned 
to  go  in,  Vittoria  came  quickly  towards  him. 

"How  did  it  Jiappen  that  Don  Orsino  was 
brought  into  the  drawing-room  ? "  she  asked,  still 
very  pale  and  excited. 

"  I  suppose  the  servant  took  him  for  the  doctor," 
said  Tebaldo,  coolly,  for  he  knew  that  she  would 
not  stoop  to  ask  questions  of  the  footman.  "I 
am  very  sorry,"  he  added. 

He  was  going  to  pass  on,  but  she  stopped  him. 

"  Tebaldo  —  I  must  speak  to  you  —  it  will  do  as 
well  here  as  anywhere.  The  nurse  is  with  her," 


CORLEONE  273 

she  said,  looking  towards  the  drawing-room.  "  She 
fainted.  Don  Orsino  told  me  in  two  words,  before 
he  went  away,  that  he  had  spoken  to  you  last 
night,  and  that  you  had  told  him  to  come  here 
to-day." 

"That  is  perfectly  exact,  my  dear.  I  have  no 
doubt  you  have  found  out  that  your  admirer,  our 
brother's  assassin,  is  a  strictly  truthful  person. 
He  insisted  upon  seeing  you;  it  was  impossible  to 
talk  at  ease  at  a  party,  and  I  told  him  to  come 
here,  intending  to  see  him  myself.  I  told  him  to 
come  at  three  o'clock  —  I  daresay  you  know  that, 
too  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  he  said  it  was  to  be  at  three  o'clock." 

Tebaldo  took  out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it. 

"It  is  now  only  four  minutes  to  three,"  he 
observed,  "and  he  is  already  gone.  He  came  a 
good  deal  before  his  time,  or  I  should  have  been 
in  the  antechamber  to  receive  him  and  take  him 
into  my  room,  out  of  harm's  way,  where  I  could 
have  explained  matters  to  him.  As  it  is,  I  was 
obliged  to  show  him  out  with  some  apology  for 
the  mistake." 

"  How  false  you  are ! "  exclaimed  Vittoria,  her 
nostrils  quivering. 

"Because  I  refuse  to  ruin  you,  and  our  own 
future  position  here  ?  I  think  I  am  wise,  not 
false.  Yes,  I  myself  assured  him  last  night  that 
he  did  not  kill  our  brother,  but  one  of  the  Pagliuca 

VOL.   I. T 


274  COELEONE 

di  Bauso.  I  took  the  hand  that  did  it,  and  shook 
it  —  to  save  your  position  in  Roman  society.  You 
seem  to  forget  that  poor  Ferdinando  had  turned 
himself  into  an  outlaw  —  in  plain  language,  he  was 
a  brigand." 

"He  was  worth  a  score  of  his  brothers,"  said 
Vittoria,  who  was  not  afraid  of  him.  "  You  talk 
of  saving  my  position.  It  is  far  more  in  order  to 
save  your  own  chance  of  marrying  the  American 
girl  with  her  fortune." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Tebaldo,  with  perfect  calm. 
"I  include  that  in  the  general  advantages  to  be 
got  by  what  I  say.  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  so  very 
false.  On  the  one  hand,  Ferdinando  was  my 
brother.  I  shall  not  forget  that.  On  the  other,  to 
speak  plainly,  he  was  a  criminal.  You  see  I  am 
perfectly  logical.  No  one  is  obliged  to  acknow- 
ledge that  he  is  related  to  a  criminal  — " 

"  No  one  is  obliged  to  lie  publicly,  as  you  do," 
broke  in  Vittoria,  rather  irrelevantly.  "  As  you 
make  me  lie  —  rather  than  let  people  know  what 
kind  of  men  my  surviving  brothers  are." 

"  You  are  not  obliged  to  say  anything.  You 
do  not  go  out  into  the  world  just  now,  because 
you  have  to  stay  with  our  mother.  I  will  wager 
that  you  have  not  once  told  the  lie  you  think  so 
degrading." 

"No  —  I  have  not,  so  far.  No  one  has  forced 
me  to." 


COBLEONE  275 

"  You  need  only  hold  your  tongue,  and  leave 
the  rest  to  me." 

"  You  make  me  act  a  lie  —  even  in  not  wearing 
mourning —  " 

"  Of  course,  if  you  make  morality  and  honesty 
depend  upon  the  colour  of  your  clothes,"  said 
Tebaldo,  scornfully,  "I  have  nothing  more  to  say 
about  it.  But  it  is  a  great  pity  that  you  have 
fallen  in  love  with  that  black  Saracinesca,  the 
assassin.  It  will  be  a  source  of  considerable 
annoyance  and  even  suffering  to  you,  I  daresay. 
It  even  annoyed  me.  It  would  have  been  hard 
to  refuse  so  advantageous  an  offer  without  accus- 
ing him  of  Ferdinando's  death,  which  is  precisely 
what  I  will  not  do,  for  the  sake  of  all  of  us.  But 
you  shall  certainly  not  marry  him,  though  you 
are  inhuman  enough  to  love  him  —  a  murderer  — 
stained  with  your  own  blood." 

"  He  is  not  a  murderer,  for  it  was  an  accident  — 
and  you  know  it.  I  am  not  ashamed  of  loving 
him  —  though  I  cared  for  Ferdinando  more  than 
any  of  you.  And  if  you  talk  in  that  way  —  if  you 
come  between  us^. — "  she  stopped. 

"  What  will  you  do  ?  "  he  asked  contemptuously. 

"I  will  tell  the  truth  about  Ferdinando,"  she 
said,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  him. 

"  To  whom,  pray  ?  " 

"To  Miss  Slayback  and  her  aunt,"  answered 
Vittoria,  her  gentle  face  growing  fierce. 


276  COBLEONE 

"Look  here,  Vittoria,"  said  Tebaldo,  more 
suavely.  "Do  you  know  that  Orsino  Saracinesca 
is  going  back  to  Camaldoli  ?  Yes.  And  you  know- 
that  Ferdinando  had  many  friends  there,  and  I 
have  some  in  the  neighbourhood.  A  letter  from 
me  may  have  a  good  deal  to  do  with  his  safety  or 
danger,  as  the  case  may  be.  It  would  be  very 
thoughtless  of  you  to  irritate  me  by  interfering 
with  my  plans.  It  might  bring  your  own  to  a 
sudden  and  rather  sad  conclusion." 

Vittoria  turned  pale  again,  for  she  believed  him. 
He  was  playing  on  her  fears  for  Orsino  and  on  her 
ignorance  of  the  real  state  of  things  at  Camaldoli. 
But  for  the  moment  his  words  had  the  effect  he 
desired.  He  instantly  followed  up  his  advantage. 

"  You  can  never  marry  him,"  he  said.  "  But  if 
you  will  not  interfere  with  my  own  prospects  of 
marriage,  nothing  shall  happen  to  Saracinesca. 
Otherwise  —  "  he  stopped  and  waited  significantly. 

Exaggerating  his  power,  she  believed  that  it 
extended  to  giving  warrant  of  death  or  safety  for 
Orsino,  and  her  imagination  left  her  little  choice. 
At  all  events,  she  would  not  have  dared  to  risk 
her  lover's  life  by  crossing  Tebaldo's  schemes  for 
himself. 

"I  am  sorry  for  the  American  girl,"  she  said. 
"  I  like  her  for  her  own  sake,  and  I  would  gladly 
save  her  from  being  married  to  such  a  man  as  you. 
But  if  you  threaten  to  murder  Don  Orsino  if  I  tell 


COELEONE  277 

her  the  truth,  you  have  me  in  your  power  on  that 
side." 

"On  all  sides,"  said  Tebaldo,  scornfully, ' as  he 
saw  how  deep  an  impression  he  had  made  on  the 
girl.  "  I  hold  his  life  in  my  hand,  so  long  as  he  is 
at  Camaldoli,  and  while  he  is  there  you  will  obey 
me.  After  that,  we  shall  see." 

Vittoria  met  his  eyes  fiercely  for  an  instant,  and 
then,  thinking  of  Orsino,  she  bent  her  head  and 
went  away,  going  back  to  her  mother. 

She  found  her  conscious  again,  but  exhausted, 
lying  down  on  the  couch  and  tended  by  the  nurse, 
who  had  been  in  the  house  since  the  news  of  her 
son's  death  had  prostrated  Maria  Carolina.  She 
looked  at  Vittoria  with  a  vague  stare,  not  exactly 
recollecting  whether  the  girl  had  been  in  the  room 
during  her  outburst  of  rage  against  Orsino  or  not. 
Vittoria  had  been  behind  her  all  the  time. 

"  Is  he  gone  ?  "  asked  Maria  Carolina,  in  a  faint 
and  hollow  voice.  "  I  am  sorry  —  I  could  have 
cursed  him  much  more  — 

"  Mother ! "  exclaimed  Vittoria,  softly  and  im- 
ploringly, and  «he  glanced  at  the  nurse.  "You 
may  go,  now,"  she  said  to  the  latter,  fearing  a 
fresh  outburst.  "I  will  stay  with  my  mother." 

The  nurse  left  the  room,  and  the  mother  and 
daughter  were  alone  together.  They  were  almost 
strangers,  as  has  been  explained,  Vittoria  having 
been  left  for  years  at  the  convent  in  Palermo,  un- 


278  COR  LEONE 

visited  by  any  of  her  family,  until  her  uncle's 
death  had  changed  their  fortunes.  It  was  impos- 
sible that  there  should  be  much  sympathy  between 
them. 

There  was,  on  the  other  hand,  a  sort  of  natural 
feeling  of  alliance  between  the  two  women  of  the 
household  as  against  the  two  men.  Maria  Carolina 
was  mentally  degraded  by  many  years  of  a  semi- 
barbarous  life  at  Camaldoli.  which  had  destroyed 
some  of  her  finer  instincts  altogether,  and  had 
almost  effaced  the  effect  of  early  education.  She 
looked  up  to  Vittoria  as  to  a  superior  being, 
brought  up  by  noble  ladies,  in  considerable  sim- 
plicity of  life,  but  in  the  most  extreme  refine- 
ment of  feeling  on  all  essential  points,  and  in 
an  atmosphere  of  general  cultivation  and  artis- 
tic taste,  which  had  not  been  dreamed  of  in  her 
mother's  youth,  though  it  might  seem  old-fash- 
ioned in  some  more  modern  countries.  The  girl 
had  received  an  education  which  had  been  good 
of  its  kind,  and  very  complete,  and  she  was 
therefore  intellectually  her  mother's  superior  by 
many  degrees.  She  knew  it,  too,  and  would  have 
despised  her  mother  if  she  had  been  like  her 
brothers.  As  it  was,  she  pitied  her,  and  suffered 
keenly  when  Maria  Carolina  did  or  said  anything 
in  public  which  showed  more  than  usual  ignorance 
or  provinciality. 

They  had   one   chief  characteristic  in  common, 


CORLEONE  279 

and  Ferclinando  had  possessed  it  also.  They  were 
naturally  as  frank  and  outspoken  as  the  other  two 
brothers  were  deceitful  and  treacherous.  As  often 
happens,  two  of  the  brothers  had  inherited  more 
of  their  character  from  their  father,  while  the  third 
had  been  most  like  his  mother.  She,  poor  woman, 
felt  that  her  daughter  was  the  only  one  of  the 
family  whom  she  could  trust,  and  looking  up  to 
her  as  she  did,  she  constantly  turned  to  her  for 
help  and  comfort  at  home,  and  for  advice  as  to  her 
conduct  in  the  world. 

But  since  Ferdinando's  death  her  mind,  though 
•not  affected  to  the  extent  described  by  Tebaldo 
in  speaking  with  Orsino,  had  been  unbalanced. 
Nothing  which  Vittoria  could  say  could  make  her 
understand  how  the  catastrophe  had  happened,  and 
though  she  had  formerly  liked  Orsino,  she  was  now 
persuaded  that  he  had  lain  in  wait  for  her  son  and 
had  treacherously  murdered  him.  Vittoria  had 
soon  found  that  the  only  possible  means  of  keep- 
ing her  quiet  was  to  avoid  the  subject  altogether, 
and  to  lead  her  away  from  it  whenever  she  ap- 
proached it.  It_  would  be  harder  than  ever  to 
accomplish  this  since  she  had  seen  Orsino. 

She  lay  on  her  couch,  moaning  softly  to  herself, 
and  now  and  then  speaking  articulate  words. 

"My  son,  my  son  !  My  handsome  boy ! "  she 
cried,  in  a  low  voice.  "Who  will  give  him  back 
to  me  ?  Who  will  find  me  one  like  him  ?  " 


280  COELEONE 

Her  lamentations  were  like  the  mourning  of  a 
woman  of  the  people.  Vittoria  tried  to  soothe  her. 
Suddenly  she  sat  up  and  grasped  the  girl's  arm, 
staring  into  her  face. 

"  To  think  that  we  once  thought  he  might  marr j 
you ! "  she  cried  wildly.  "  Curse  him,  Vittoria ! 
Let  me  hear  you  curse  him,  too !  Curse  him  for 
your  soul's  sake  !  That  will  do  me  good." 

"  Mother !  mother !  "  cried  the  girl,  softly  press- 
ing the  hand  that  gripped  her  arm  so  roughly. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  the  half- 
mad  creature  fiercely,  as  her  strength  came  back. 
"  Why  will  you  not  curse  him  ?  Go  down  on  your 
knees  and  pray  that  all  the  saints  will  curse  him 
as  I  do!" 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  mother!  Do  not  begin 
again ! " 

"  Begin  ?  Ah,  I  have  not  ended  —  I  shall  not  end 
when  I  die,  but  always  while  he  is  alive  my  soul 
shall  pursue  him,  day  and  night,  and  I  will  —  " 
she  broke  off.  "  But  you,  too  —  you  must  wish 
him  evil  —  you,  all  of  us  —  then  the  evil  will  go 
with  him  always,  if  many  of  us  cast  it  on  him !  " 

She  was  like  a  terrible  witch,  with  her  pale  face 
and  dishevelled  hair,  and  gaunt  arms  that  made 
violent  gestures. 

"  Speak,  child !  "  she  cried  again.  "  Curse  him 
for  your  dead  brother  ! " 

"  No.     I  will  never  do  that,"  said  Vittoria. 


COELEONE  281 

A  new  light  came  into  the  raving  woman's  eyes. 

"  You  love  him ! "  she  exclaimed,  half  choking. 
"  I  know  you  love  him  — 

With  a  violent  movement  she  pushed  Vittoria 
away  from  her,  almost  throwing  her  to  the  ground. 
Then  she  fell  back  on  the  couch,  and  slowly 
turned  her  face  away,  covering  her  eyes  with 
both  her  hands.  Her  whole  body  quivered,  and 
then  was  still,  then  shook  more  violently,  and 
then,  all  at  once,  she  broke  into  a  terrible  sobbing, 
that  went  on  and  on  as  though  it  would  never  stop 
while  she  had  breath  and  tears  left. 

Vittoria  came  back  to  her  seat  and  waited 
patiently,  for  there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done. 
And  the  sound  of  the  woman's  weeping  was  so 
monotonous  and  regular  that  the  girl  did  not  al- 
ways hear  it,  but  looked  across  at  the  half-closed 
blinds  of  the  window  and  thought  of  her  own  life, 
and  wondered  at  all  its  tragedy,  being  herself  half 
stunned  and  dazed. 

It  was  bad  enough,  as  it  appeared  to  her,  but 
could  she  have  known  it  all  as  it  was  to  be,  and  all 
that  she  did  not  yet  know  of  her  brother  Tebaldo's 
evil  nature,  she  might,  perhaps,  have  done  like  her 
mother,  and  covered  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  and 
sobbed  aloud  in  terror  and  pain. 

That  might  be  said  of  very  many  lives,  perhaps. 
And  yet  men  do  their  best  to  tear  the  veil  of  the 
future,  and  to  look  through  it  into  the  darkened 


282  COELEONE 

theatre  which  is  each  to-morrow.  And  many,  if 
they  knew  the  price  and  the  struggle,  would  give 
up  the  prize  beyond ;  but  not  knowing,  and  being 
in  the  fight,  they  go  on  to  the  end.  And  some  of 
them  win. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

TEBALDO'S  own  affairs  were  by  no  means  simple. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  get  Miss  Lizzie  Slay- 
back  for  his  wife,  and  her  fortune  for  himself;  but 
he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  forget  the  beau- 
tiful Aliandra  Basili.  The  consequence  was  that 
he  was  in  constant  fear  lest  either  should  hear  of 
his  devotion  to  the  other,  seeing  that  his  brother 
Francesco  was  quite  as  much  in  love  with  the 
singer  as  he  was  himself,  and  but  for  native 
cowardice,  as  ready  for  any  act  of  treachery  which 
could  secure  his  own  ends.  By  that  weakness 
Tebaldo  held  him,  for  the  present,  in  actual  bodily 
fear,  which  is  more  often  an  element  even  in 
modern  life  than  is  generally  supposed.  But 
how  long  that  might  be  possible  Tebaldo  could  not 
foresee.  At  any  moment,  by  a  turn  of  events, 
Francesco  might  get  out  of  his  power. 

Aliandra's  season  in  Rome  had  been  a  great  suc- 
cess, and  her  career  seemed  secured,  though  she 
had  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  an  immediate 
engagement  for  the  London  season,  which  had 
been  the  height  of  her  ambition.  She  had  made 
her  appearance  too  late  for  that,  but  the  possibility 
283 


284  COBLEONE 

of  such  a  piece  of  good  fortune  was  quite  within 
her  reach  for  the  ensuing  year.  Being  in  reality 
a  sensible  and  conscientious  artist,  therefore,  and 
having  at  the  same  time  always  before  her  the 
rather  vague  hope  of  marking  one  of  the  brothers, 
she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  stay  in  Rome  until 
July  to  study  certain  new  parts  with  an  excellent 
master  she  had  found  there.  She  therefore  re- 
mained where  she  was,  after  giving  a  few  perform- 
ances in  the  short  season  after  Lent,  and  she 
continued  to  live  very  quietly  with  her  old  aunt 
in  the  little  apartment  they  had  hired.  A  certain 
number  of  singers  and  other  musicians,  with  whom 
she  had  been  brought  into  more  or  less  close  ac- 
quaintance in  her  profession,  came  to  see  her  con- 
stantly, but  she  absolutely  refused  to  know  any  of 
the  young  men  of  society  who  had  admired  her  and 
sent  her  flowers  during  the  opera  season.  With 
all  her  beauty  and  youth  and  talent,  she  possessed 
a  very  fair  share  of  her  father's  profound  common 
sense. 

Of  the  two,,  she  very  much  preferred  Francesco, 
who  was  gentler,  gayer,  and  altogether  a  more 
pleasant  companion;  but  she  clearly  saw  the  advan- 
tage of  marrying  the  elder  brother,  who  had  a  very 
genuine  old  title  for  which  she  could  provide  a 
fortune  by  her  voice.  There  were  two  or  three 
instances  of  such  marriages  which  had  turned  out 
admirably,  though  several  others  had  been  failures. 


CORLEONE  285 

She  saw  no  reason  why  she  should  not  succeed  as 
well  as  anyone. 

Tebaldo,  on  his  part,  had  never  had  the  smallest 
intention  of  marrying  her,  though  he  had  hinted 
to  her  more  than  once,  in  moments  of  passion,  that 
he  might  do  so.  Aliandra  was  as  obstinate  as  he, 
and,  as  has  been  said,  possessed  the  tenacious 
instinct  of  self-preservation  and  the  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  danger  which  especially  characterize  the 
young  girl  of  the  south.  She  was  by  no  means 
a  piece  of  perfection  in  all  ways,  and  was  quite 
capable  of  setting  aside  most  scruples  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  her  end.  But  that  desired  end  was 
marriage,  and  there  was  no  probability  at  all  that 
she  should  ever  lose  her  head  and  commit  an  irre- 
vocable mistake  for  either  of  the  brothers. 

She  saw  clearly  that  Tebaldo  was  in  love  with 
her,  as  he  understood  love.  She  could  see  how  his 
eyes  lighted  up  and  how  the  warm  blood  mantled 
under  his  sallow  brown  skin  when  he  was  with 
her,  and  how  his  hand  moved  nervously  when  it 
held  hers.  She  could  not  have  mistaken  those 
signs,  even  if  her  aunt,  the  excellent  Signora 
Barbuzzi,  had  not  taken  a  lively  interest  in  the 
prospects  of  her  niece's  marriage,  watching 
Tebaldo 's  face  as  an  old  sailor  ashore  watches 
the  signs  of  the  weather  and  names  the  strength 
of  the  wind,  from  a  studding-sail  breeze  to  a  gale. 

What  most  disturbed  Aliandra's  hopes  was  that 


286  CORLEONE 

Tebaldo  was  cautious  even  in  his  passion,  and 
seemed  as  well  able  to  keep  his  head  as  she  her- 
self. His  brother  often  told  her  that  Tebaldo 
sometimes,  though  rarely,  altogether  lost  control 
of  himself  for  a  moment,  and  became  like  a  dan- 
gerous wild  animal.  But  she  did  not  believe  the 
younger  man,  who  was  always  doing  his  best  to 
influence  her  against  Tebaldo,  and  whom  she 
rightly  guessed  to  be  a  far  more  dangerous  person 
where  a  woman  was  concerned. 

Francesco  had  once  frightened  her,  and  she  was 
really  afraid  to  be  alone  with  him.  There  was 
sometimes  an  expression  which  she  dreaded  in  his 
satyr-like  eyes  and  a  smile  on  his  red  lips  that 
chilled  her.  Once,  and  she  could  never  forget  it, 
he  had  managed  to  find  her  alone  in  her  room  at 
the  theatre,  and  without  warning  he  had  seized 
her  rudely  and  kissed  her  so  cruelly  while  she 
struggled  in  his  arms  that  her  lips  had  been 
swollen  and  had  hurt  her  all  the  next  day.  Her 
maid  had  opened  the  door  suddenly,  and  he  had 
disappeared  at  once  without  another  word.  She 
had  never  told  Tebaldo  of  that. 

Since  then  she  had  been  very  careful.  Yet  in 
reality  she  liked  him  better,  for  he  could  be  very 
gentle  ^,nd  sympathetic,  and  he  understood  her 
moods  and  wishes  as  Tebaldo  never  did,  for  he 
was  a  woman's  man,  while  Tebaldo  was  eminently 
what  is  called  a  man's  man. 


COELEONE  287 

Aliandra  was,  as  yet,  in  ignorance  of  Miss  Slay- 
back's  existence,  but  she  saw  well  enough  that 
Tebalclo  was  concealing  something  from  her.  A 
woman's  faculty  for  finding  out  that  a  man  has  a 
secret  of  some  sort  is  generally  far  beyond  her 
capacity  for  discovering  what  that  secret  is.  He 
appeared  to  have  engagements  at  unusual  times, 
and  there  was  a  slight  shade  of  preoccupation  in 
his  face  when  she  least  expected  it.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  seemed  even  more  anxious  to  please  her 
than  formerly,  when  he  was  with  her,  and  she 
even  fancied  that  his  manner  expressed  a  sort  of 
relief  when  he  knew  that  he  could  spend  an  hour 
in  her  company  uninterrupted. 

"When  she  questioned  him,  he  said  that  he  was 
in  some  anxiety  about  his  affairs,  and  his  engage- 
ments, according  to  his  own  account,  were  with 
men  of  business.  But  he  never  told  what  he  was 
really  doing.  He  had  not  even  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  inform  her  of  the  sale  of  Camaldoli. 
Though  she  was  a  native  of  the  country,  he  told 
her  precisely  what  he  told  everyone  in  regard 
to  Ferdinando  Pagliuca's  death. 

"Eh  —  you  say  so,"  she  answered.  "But  as  for 
me,  I  do  not  believe  you.  There  never  was  but 
one  Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  he  was  your  brother, 
and  he  was  a  friend  of  all  the  brigands  in  Sicily. 
You  may  tell  these  Romans  about  the  Pagliuca 
di  Bauso,  but  I  know  better.  Do  you  take  me 


288  CORLEONE 

for  a  Koman  ?  We  of  Randazzo  know  what  a 
brigand  is ! " 

"You  should,  at  all  events,"  answered  Tebaldo, 
laughing,  "for  you  are  all  related.  It  is  one 
family.  If  you  knew  how  many  brigands  have 
been  called  Basili,  like  you!  " 

"  Then  you  and  I  are  also  related !  "  she  laughed, 
too,  though  she  watched  his  face.  "But  as  for 
your  brother,  may  the  Lord  have  him  in  peace! 
He  is  dead,  and  Saracinesca  killed  him." 

Tebaldo  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  showed  no 
annoyance. 

"As  much  as  you  please,"  he  answered.  "But 
my  brother  Ferdinando  is  alive  and  well  in 
Palermo." 

"So  much  the  better,  my  dear  friend.  You 
need  not  wear  mourning  for  him,  as  so  many 
people  are  doing  at  Santa  Vittoria." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Tebaldo,  uneasily. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  Concetta,  the  beaiitiful 
daughter  of  Don  Atanasio,  the  apothecary?  "  asked 
Aliandra,  quietly  smiling. 

Tebaldo  affected  surprise  and  ignorance. 

"It  is  strange,"  continued  the  singer,  "for  you 
admire  beauty,  and  she  is  called  everywhere  the 
Fata  del'  Etna,  — the  Fairy  of  Etna,  — and  she  is 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  girls  in  the  whole  world. 
My  father  knows  her  father  a  little  —  of  course, 
he  is  only  an  apothecary  — "  she  shrugged  her 


COELEONE  289 

shoulders  apologetically  —  "but  in  the  country  one 
knows  everybody.  So  I  have  seen  her  sometimes, 
as  at  the  fair  of  Randazzo,  when  she  and  her  father 
have  had  a  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  wine  at  our  house. 
But  we  could  not  ask  them  to  dinner,  because .  the 
mayor  and  his  wife  were  coming,  and  the  lieu- 
tenant of  carabineers  —  an  apothecary !  You 
understand?  " 

"I  understand  nothing  beyond  what  you  say," 
said  Tebaldo.  "  You  did  not  consider  the  apothe- 
cary of  Santa  Vittoria  good  enough  to  be  asked  to 
meet  the  mayor  of  Randazzo.  How  does  that 
affect  me?" 

"Oh,  not  at  all!"  laughed  Aliandra.  "But 
everything  is  known,  sooner  or  later.  Ferdi- 
nando,  your  brother,  was  at  the  fair,  too  —  I  re- 
member what  a  beautiful  black  horse  he  had,  as 
he  rode  by  our  house.  But  he  did  not  come  in, 
for  he  did  not  know  us.  Now,  when  Don  Atana- 
sio  and  Concetta  went  out,  he  was  waiting  a 
little  way  down  the  street,  standing  and  holding 
his  horse's  bridle.  I  saw,  for  I  looked  through 
the  chinks  of  the  .blinds  to  see  which  way  Concetta 
and  her  father  would  go.  And  your  brother  bowed 
to  the  ground  when  they  came  near  him.  Fancy! 
To  an  apothecary's  daughter!  Just  as  I  have  seen 
you  bow  to  the  Princess  of  Sant'  Ilario  in  the  Villa 
Borghese.  She  is  Saracinesca's  mother,  is  she 
not?  Very  well.  I  tell  you  the  truth  when  I  tell 

VOL.    I.  —  U 


290  CORLEONE 

you  that  Don  Ferdinando  took  the  two  to  dine 
with  him  in  the  best  room  at  the  inn.  They  say 
he  thought  nothing  good  enough  for  the  apothe- 
cary's daughter,  though  he  was  of  the  blood  of 
princes!  But  now  Concetta  wears  mourning. 
Perhaps  it  is  not  for  him?  Eh?" 

Aliandra  had  learned  Italian  very  well  when  a 
child,  and  was  even  taking  lessons  in  French,  in 
order  to  be  able  to  sing  in  Paris.  But  as  she  talked 
with  Tebaldo  she  fell  back  into  her  natural  dialect, 
which  was  as  familiar  to  him  as  to  herself.  He 
loved  the  sound  of  it,  though  he  took  the  greatest 
pains  to  overcome  his  own  Sicilian  accent  in  order 
not  to  seem  provincial  in  Rome.  But  it  was 
pleasant  to  hear  it  now  and  then  in  the  midst  of 
a  life  of  which  the  restraints  were  all  disagreeable 
to  him,  while  many  of  them  were  almost  intoler- 
ably irksome. 

"How  much  better  our  language  is  than  this 
stilted  Roman!  "  he  exclaimed,  by  way  of  suddenly 
turning  the  conversation.  "  I  often  wish  you  could 
sing  your  operas  in  Sicilian." 

"  I  often  sing  you  Sicilian  songs, "  she  answered. 
"  But  it  is  strange  that  Concetta  should  wear  mourn- 
ing, is  it  not?" 

"Leave  Concetta  alone,  and  talk  to  me  about 
yourself.  I  have  never  seen  her  —  " 

"  Do  not  say  such  things ! "  laughed  Aliandra. 
"  I  do  not  believe  much  that  you  say,  but  you  will 


CORLEONE  291 

soon  not  let  me  believe  anything  at  all.  Everyone 
has  seen  Concetta.  They  sing  songs  about  her 
even  in  Palermo  —  La  Fata  del'  Etna  —  " 

"Oh,  I  have  heard  of  her,  of  course,  by  that 
name,  but  I  never  remember  seeing  her.  At  all 
events,  you  are  ten  times  more  beautiful  than 
she  —  " 

"  I  wish  I  were ! "  exclaimed  the  artist,  simply. 
"But  if  you  think  so,  that  is  much." 

"  It  would  be  just  the  same  if  you  were  ugly, " 
said  Tebaldo,  magnanimously.  "I  should  love 
you  just  as  I  do  —  to  distraction." 

"To  distraction?"  she  laughed  again. 

"You  know  it,"  he  answered,  with  an  air  of 
conviction.  "I  love  you,  and  everything  that 
belongs  to  you  —  your  lovely  face,  your  angelic 
voice,  your  words,  your  silence  —  too  much." 

"Why  too  much?" 

"Because  I  suffer." 

"There  is  a  remedy  for  that,  my  dear  Tebaldo." 

"Tell  me!" 

"Marry  me.  It  is  simple  enough!  Why  should 
you  suffer?  " 

Her  laughter  was  musical  and  sunny,  but  there 
was  a  little  irony  in  its  readiness  to  follow  the 
words. 

"You  know  that  we  have  often  spoken  of  that," 
he  answered,  being  taken  unawares.  "There  are 
difficulties." 


292  COELEONE 

"So  you  alwa}~s  say.  But  then  it  would  be 
wiser  of  you  not  to  love  me  any  more,  but  to  marry 
where  you  do  not  find  those  difficulties.  Surely  it 
should  be  easy! " 

She  spoke  now  with  a  little  scorn,  while  watch- 
ing him;  and  as  she  saw  the  vulture-like  droop  of 
his  eyelids  she  knew  that  she  had  touched  him, 
though  she  could  not  quite  tell  how.  She  had 
never  spoken  so  frankly  to  him  before. 

"Not  so  easy  as  you  think,"  he  replied,  with  a 
rather  artificial  laugh. 

"Then  you  have  tried?"  she  asked.  "I  had 
thought  so!  And  you  have  failed?  My  con- 
dolences ! " 

"I?  Tried  to  marry?"  he  cried,  realizing  how 
far  she  was  leading  him.  "  What  are  you  making 
me  say?" 

"I  am  trying  to  make  you  tell  the  truth,"  she 
answered,  with  a  change  of  tone.  "But  it  is  not 
easy,  for  you  are  clever  at  deceiving  me,  and  I 
wonder  that  you  cannot  deceive  the  woman  you 
wish  to  marry." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  marry  anyone,"  he  protested. 

"  No  —  not  even  me.  Me,  least  of  all,  because  I 
am  not  good  enough  to  marry  you,  though  you  are 
good  enough  to  pursue  me  with  what  you  call  your 
love.  I  am  only  an  artist,  and  you  must  have  a 
princess,  of  course.  I  have  only  my  voice,  and 
you  want  a  solid  fortune.  I  have  only  my  honour, 


COELEONE  293 

but  you  want  honours  through  your  wife  for  your- 
self, and  you  would  tear  mine  to  rags  if  I  yielded 
a  hair's-breadth.  You  make  a  mistake,  Don 
Tebaldo  Pagliuca.  I  am  a  Sicilian  girl  and  I 
came  of  honest  people.  You  may  suffer  as  much 
as  you  please,  but  unless  you  will  marry  me,  you 
may  go  on  suffering,  for  you  shall  not  ruin  me." 

She  spoke  strongly,  with  a  strange  mixture  of 
theatrical  and  commonplace  expressions;  but  she 
was  in  earnest,  and  he  knew  it,  and  in  her  momen- 
tary anger  she  was  particularly  fascinating  to  him. 
Yet  her  speech  made  no  real  impression  upon  his 
mind.  He  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  drew  it 
away  sharply. 

"No,"  she  said.  "I  have  had  enough  of  this 
love-making,  this  hand-taking,  and  this  faith- 
breaking.  You  sometimes  speak  of  marrying  me, 
and  then  you  bring  up  those  terrible,  unknown 
difficulties,  which  you  never  define.  Yes,  you  are 
a  prince  —  but  there  are  hundreds  of  them  in  our 
Italy.  Yes,  I  am  only  an  artist,  but  some  people 
say  that  I  am  a  great  artist  —  and  there  are  very 
few  in  Italy,  or  anywhere  else.  If  it  is  beneath 
your  dignity  to  marry  a  singer,  Signor  Principe  di 
Corleone,  then  go  and  take  a  wife  of  your  own 
class.  If  you  love  me,  Tebaldo  Pagliuca,  as  an 
honest  man  loves  an  honest  woman  —  and  God 
knows  I  am  that  —  then  marry  me,  and  I,  with  my 
voice,  will  make  you  a  fortune  and  buy  back  your 


294  COBLEONE 

estates,  besides  being  a  faithful  wife  to  you.  But 
if  you  will  not  do  that,  go.  You  shall  not  harm 
my  good  name  by  being  perpetually  about  me,  and 
you  shall  not  touch  the  tips  of  my  fingers  with 
your  lips  until  you  are  my  lawful  husband.  There, 
I  have  spoken.  You  shall  know  that  a  Sicilian, 
girl  is  as  good  as  a  Roman  lady  —  better,  per- 
haps." 

Tebaldo  looked  at  her  in  some  surprise,  and  his 
mind  worked  rapidly,  remembering  all  she  had 
said  during  the  preceding  quarter  of  an  hour. 
She  spoke  with  a  good  deal  of  natural  dignity  and 
force,  and  he  was  ready  to  admit  that  she  was 
altogether  in  earnest.  But  his  quick  senses 
missed  a  certain  note  which  should  have  been  in 
her  tones  if  this  had  been  a  perfectly  spontaneous 
outburst.  It  was  clear,  as  it  always  had  been, 
that  she  wished  to  marry  him.  It  was  not  at  all 
clear  that  she  loved  him  in  the  least.  It  struck 
him  instantly  that  she  must  have  heard  something 
of  his  attention  to  the  foreign  heiress,  and  that 
she  had  planned  this  scene  in  order  to  bring  mat- 
ters to  a  crisis.  He  was  too  sensible  not  to  under- 
stand that  he  himself  was  absurdly  in  love  with 
her,  in  his  own  way,  and  that  she  knew  it,  as 
women  generally  do,  and  could  exasperate  him, 
perhaps,  into  some  folly  of  which  he  might  re- 
pent, by  simply  treating  him  coldly,  as  she  threat- 
ened. 


COBLEONE  295 

During  the  silence  which  followed,  she  sat  with 
folded  arms  and  half-closed  eyes,  looking  at  him 
defiantly  from  under  her  lids. 

"  You  do  me  a  great  injustice, "  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  answered.  "  I  have  no  choice. 
I  value  my  good  name  as  a  woman,  besides  my 
reputation  as  an  artist.  You  do  not  justify  your- 
self in  the  only  way  in  your  power,  by  explaining 
clearly  what  the  insuperable  difficulties  are  in  the 
Avay  of  our  marriage." 

The  notary's  daughter  did  not  lack  logic. 

"  I  never  said  that  they  were  insuperable  —  " 

"Then  overcome  them,  if  you  want  me,"  an- 
swered Aliandra,  implacably. 

"I  said  that  there  were  difficulties,  and  there 
are  great  ones.  You  speak  of  making  a  fortune 
by  your  voice,  my  dear  Aliandra,"  he  continued, 
his  tones  sweetening.  "But  you  must  understand 
that  a  man  who  is  a  gentleman  does  not  like  to  be 
dependent  on  his  wife's  profession  for  his  sup- 
port." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  it  is  more  dignified  to  depend 
on  his  wife's  money,  because  she  has  not  earned  it 
by  hard  work,"  retorted  the  singer,  scornfully. 
"It  is  honestly  earned." 

"The  honour  is  entirely  yours,"  said  Tebaldo. 
"  The  world  would  grant  me  no  share  in  it.  Then 
there  are  my  mother's  objections,  which  are  strong 
ones,"  he  went  on  quickly.  "She  has,  of  course, 


296  COELEONE 

a  right  to  be  consulted,  and  she  does  not  even 
know  you." 

"It  is  in  your  power  to  introduce  me  to  your 
mother  whenever  you  please." 

"  She  is  too  ill  to  see  anyone  —  " 

"  She  has  not  always  been  ill.  You  have  either 
been  afraid  to  bring  an  artist  to  your  mother's 
house,  which  is  not  flattering  to  me,  or  else  you 
never  had  the  slightest  intention  of  marrying  me, 
in  spite  of  much  that  you  have  said.  Though  I 
have  heard  you  call  your  brother  Francesco  a 
coward,  I  think  he  is  braver  than  you,  for  he 
would  marry  me  to-morrow,  if  I  would  have  him." 

"  And  live  on  what  you  earn, "  retorted  Tebaldo, 
with  ready  scorn. 

"He  has  as  much  as  you  have,"  observed  Alian- 
dra.  "  Your  uncle  left  no  will,  and  you  all  shared 
the  property  equally  —  " 

"You  are  not  a  notary's  daughter  for  nothing," 
laughed  Tebaldo.  "That  is  true.  But  there  was 
very  little  to  share.  Do  you  know  what  was  left 
when  the  debts  were  paid?  A  bit  of  land  here  in 
Rome  —  that  was  all,  besides  Camaldoli.  Both 
have  been  sold  advantageously,  and  we  have  just 
enough  to  live  decently  all  together.  We  should 
be  paupers  if  we  tried  to  separate." 

"You  are  nothing  if  not  plausible.  But  you  "will 
forgive  me  if  I  say  that  this  difficulty  has  the  air 
of  being  really  insuperable.  You  absolutely  refuse 


CORLEONE  297 

to  share  what  I  earn,  and  you  are  absolutely  incapa- 
ble of  earning  anything  yourself.  That  being  the 
case,  the  sooner  you  go  away  the  better,  for  you 
can  never  marry  me,  on  your  own  showing,  and 
you  are  injuring  my  reputation  in  the  meantime." 

"  I  am  engaged  in  speculations,  in  which  I  hope 
to  make  money,"  said  Tebaldo.  "I  often  tell  you 
that  I  have  appointments  with  men  of  business  —  " 

"Yes,  you  often  tell  me  so,"  interrupted  Ali- 
andra,  incredulously. 

"  You  are  cold,  and  you  are  calculating, "  retorted 
Tebaldo,  with  a  sudden  change  of  manner,  as 
though  taking  offence  at  last. 

"  It  is  fortunate  for  me  that  I  am  not  hot-headed 
and  foolish,"  replied  Aliandra,  coolly. 

They  parted  on  these  terms.  She  believed  that 
her  coldness  would  bring  him  to  her  feet  if  any- 
thing could ;  but  he  was  persuaded  that  his  brother 
had  betrayed  him  and  had  told  her  about  the 
American  heiress. 


CHAPTER 


OKSESO  made  his  preparations  for  returning  to 
Sicily  with  a  heavy  heart.  His  situation  was  des- 
perate at  present,  for  he  had  exhausted  his  inge- 
nuity in  trying  to  discover  some  means  of  seeing 
Yittoria  a  last  time.  To  leave  San  Giacinto  to  do 
what  he  could  with  Camaldoli  and  refuse  to  go 
back  at  all,  for  the  present,  which  seemed  to  be 
his  only  chance  of  a  meeting  with  Vittoria,  was 
a  course  against  which  his  manliness  revolted. 
Even  if  there  had  been  no  danger  connected  with 
the  administration  of  the  new  estate,  he  would  not 
have  abandoned  his  cousin  at  such  a  time,  after 
promising  to  help  him,  and  indeed  to  undertake 
all  work  connected  with  the  place.  San  Giacinto 
was  a  busy  man,  to  whom  any  sacrifice  of  time 
might  suddenly  mean  a  corresponding  loss  of 
money,  for  which  Orsino  would  hold  himself  re- 
sponsible if  he  brought  about  the  delay.  But  as 
it  was,  since  the  position  he  had  promised  to  fill 
was  a  dangerous  one,  nothing  could  have  induced 
him  to  withdraw  from  the  undertaking.  It  would 
have  seemed  like  running  away  from  a  fight. 

It  was  a  consolation  to  have  his  brother's  com- 
298 


COBLEOXE  299 

pany,  as  far  as  anything  could  console  him,  though 
he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  for  some  time  to 
confide  in  Ippolito.  who  had  always  laughed  at 
him  for  not  marrying,  and  who  could  probably  not 
understand  why  he  had  now  allowed  himself  to  fall 
in  love  with  one  of  the  very  few  young  women  in 
the  world  whom  he  might  be  prevented  from  mar- 
rying. He  was  grave  and  silent  as  he  put  together 
a  few  books  in  his  own  room,  vaguely  wondering 
whether  he  should  ever  read  them. 

Ippolito  was  collecting  a  number  of  loose  sheets 
of  music  that  lay  on  the  piano,  on  a  chair  beside 
it,  on  the  table  among  Orsino's  things,  and  even  on 
the  floor  under  the  instrument.  He  had  taken  off 
his  cassock,  because  it  was  warm,  and  he  wore  a 
grey  silk  jacket  which  contrasted  oddly  with  his 
black  silk  stockings  and  clerical  stock.  From  time 
to  time,  without  taking  his  cigar  from  his  lips,  he 
hummed  a  few  notes  of  a  melody  in  the  thin  but 
tuneful  voice  which  seems  to  belong  to  so  many 
musicians  and  composers,  interrupting  himself  pres- 
ently and  blowing  a  cloud  of  smoke  into  the  air. 
Now  and  then  he Jooked  at  Orsino  as  though  expect- 
ing him  to  speak. 

At  last,  having  got  his  manuscript  music  into 
some  sort  of  order,  he  sat  down  at  the  piano  to 
rest  himself  by  expressing  an  idea  he  had  in  his 
head. 

"  How  glad  you  will  be  not  to  hear  a  piano  at 


300  COELEONE 

Camaldoli,"  he  said,  stopping  as  suddenly  as  he 
had  begun. 

"  It  is  a  horrible  instrument,"  Orsino  said,  "  but 
it  never  disturbs  me,  and  it  seems  to  amuse  you." 

Ippolito  laughed. 

"  That  is  what  you  always  say,  but  I  know  you 
will  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  it,  and  it  will  do  me  good 
to  play  the  orgau  at  Santa  Vittoria  for  a  change. 
As  that  is  three-quarters  of  a  mile  away,  it  will  not 
disturb  you." 

"Nothing  disturbs  me,"  replied  Orsino,  rather 
sadly. 

Ippolito  made  up  his  mind  to  speak  at  last. 

"Orsino,"  he  began  quietly,  "I  know  all  about 
you  and  Donna  Vittoria.  As  we  are  going  to  be 
so  much  together,  it  is  better  that  I  should  tell 
you  so.  I  hate  secrets,  and  I  would  rather  not 
make  a  secret  of  knowing  yours  —  if  it  is  one." 

Orsino  had  looked  round  sharply  when  the  priest 
had  first  spoken,  but  had  then  gone  back  to  what 
he  was  doing. 

"  I  am  glad  you  know,"  he  said,  "  though  I  would 
not  have  told  you.  I  have  spoken  to  our  father  and 
mother  about  it.  The  one  calls  me  a  fool,  and  the 
other  thinks  me  one.  They  are  not  very  encourag- 
ing. As  for  her  family,  her  mother  curses  me  for 
having  killed  her  favourite  son,  and  her  brothers 
pretend  that  she  is  mad  and  then  intrench  them- 
selves behind  her  to  say  that  it  is  impossible.  I 


CORLEONE  301 

do  not  blame  them  much  —  Heaven  knows,  I  do  not 
blame  her  at  all.  All  the  same,  Vittoria  and  I  love 
each  other.  It  is  an  impossible  situation.  I  can- 
not even  see  her  to  say  goodbye.  I  wish  I  could 
find  a  way  out  of  it !  "  He  laughed  bitterly. 

"I  wish  I  could,"  echoed  his  brother.  "But  I 
am  only  a  priest,  and  you  call  me  a  dilettante 
churchman,  at  that.  Let  us  see.  Let  us  argue 
the  case  as  though  we  were  in  the  theological 
school.  oST'O  —  I  am  serious  —  you  need  not  frown. 
How  many  things  can  happen  ?  Three,  I  think. 
There  are  three  conceivable  terminations.  Either 
you  part  for  ever  and  forget  each  other  — 

"  You  may  eliminate  that,"  observed  Orsino. 

"  Very  well.  Or  else  you  continue  to  love  each 
other,  in  which  event  you  must  either  succeed  in 
getting  married,  or  not,  and  those  are  the  other  two 
cases." 

"One  does  not  need  to  be  a  theologian  to  see 
that.  Similarly,  a  man  must  either  live  or  die,  and 
a  door  must  be  either  open  or  shut,  on  pain  of  not 
being  a  door  at  all." 

"I  have  not  finished,"  objected  Ippolito.  "In 
fact,  I  have  only  begun.  For  the  sake  of  argument, 
we  will  assume  first  that  you  continue  to  love  each 
other,  but  cannot  get  married." 

"  That  is  the  present  position." 

"  It  is  not  a  position  which  visually  lasts  long. 
At  the  end  of  a  certain  time  you  will  naturally 


302  COR  LEONE 

cease  to  love  each  other,  and  we  obtain  a  second 
time  the  case  which  you  at  first  eliminated." 

"  Eliminate  it  again,"  said  Orsino,  gravely. 

"Very  well.  There  remains  only  one  possible 
issue,  after  your  eliminations.  You  must  be 
married.  On  any  other  assumption  you  will  for- 
get each  other.  Now  in  such  cases  as  yours,  how 
do  people  act  ?  You  are  a  layman,  and  it  is  your 
business  to  know." 

"When  both  are  of  age  they  'respectfully  re- 
quire '  their  respective  parents  to  give  their  consent. 
If  it  is  refused,  they  marry  and  the  law  protects 
them." 

"  So  does  the  church,"  said  the  priest.  "  But  it 
does  not  provide  them  with  an  income  afterwards, 
nor  in  any  way  guarantee  them  against  the  conse- 
quences of  family  quarrels.  Those  are  subdivi- 
sions of  the  case  which  you  can  neither  modify 
nor  eliminate." 

"  Well,"  said  Orsino,  wearily,  "  what  do  you  con- 
clude for  all  this  ?  " 

Ippolito's  gentle  face  grew  suddenly  grave,  and 
seemed  squarer  and  more  like  his  brother's. 

"  From  what  I  know  of  the  world,"  he  answered, 
"  I  conclude  that  men  who  mean  to  do  things,  do 
them,  and  let  the  consequences  take  care  of  them- 
selves. If  you  mean  to  marry  Vittoria  d'Oriani, 
you  will  marry  her,  without  any  help  and  without 
anyone's  advice.  If  you  do  not  mean  to  marry  her, 


COELEONE  303 

you  will  not,  because,  under  the  circumstances,  she 
can  assuredly  not  marry  you,  as  women  have  been 
known  to  marry  husbands  almost  against  their 
will." 

"  You  have  a  singularly  direct  way  of  putting 
things,"  observed  Orsino,  thoughtfully. 

"  That  is  simply  the  result  of  your  eliminations," 
answered  the  priest.  "If  you  do  not  love  her  enough 
to  take  her  in  spite  of  everything  and  everybody, 
you  must  restore  into  the  list  of  possibilities  the 
certainty  that  before  long  you  will  not  love  her  at 
all.  For  I  conceive  that  half  a  love  is  no  better 
as  a  basis  of  warfare  than  half  a  faith.  I  do  not 
mean  to  breed  war  with  our  father  and  mother. 
That  is  a  serious  matter.  I  am  only  pursuing  the 
matter  to  its  logical  conclusion  and  end,  in  words, 
as  you  will  have  to  do  in  your  acts,  sooner  or 
later." 

"Meanwhile  I  am  doing  nothing,"  said  Orsiuo. 
"  And  I  am  horribly  conscious  that  I  am  doing 
nothing." 

"  You  are  going  away,"  remarked  Ippolito. 
"That  is  not  inaction." 

"  It  is  worse  than  inaction  —  it  is  far  worse  than 
doing  nothing  at  all." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that.  It  is  sometimes  a 
good  thing  to  force  an  interval  between  events. 
In  the  first  place,  I  often  hear  it  said  that  a 
separation  strengthens  a  great  passion,  but  destroys 


304  CORLEONE 

a  small  one.  All  passions  seem  great  when  the 
object  is  present,  but  distance  brings  out  the  truth. 
By  the  time  you  have  been  a  month  at  Camaldoli 
you  will  know  whether  it  is  essential  to  your  hap- 
piness to  marry  Vittoria  d'Oriani,  or  not." 

"  And  suppose  that  it  is  ?  We  come  back  to  the 
same  situation  again." 

"Yes  —  we  come  back  to  the  eternal  situation  of 
force  against  force." 

"  And  you  mean  that  I  should  use  force  ?  That 
is  —  that  I  should  marry  her  and  take  all  the  con- 
sequences, no  matter  what  they  may  be  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  mean  that  you  should.  I  distinguish. 
I  mean  that  you  will,  that  is  all.  I  am  not  con- 
sidering the  moral  ground  of  the  action,  but  the 
human  source  of  it.  Your  marriage  may  be  the 
cause  of  great  difficulties  and  complications,  but  if 
you  are  persuaded  that  it  is  quite  necessary  to  your 
life  to  marry  that  young  lady,  you  will  marry  her. 
It  is  by  no  means  an  impossible  thing  to  accom- 
plish, nor  even  a  very  difficult  one." 

"  You  do  not  tell  me  how  far  it  is  a  matter  of 
conscience  to  consider  the  consequences." 

"  It  is  of  no  use  to  tell  courageous  men  that  sort 
of  thing,"  said  the  priest.  "  They  take  the  conse- 
quences, that  is  all.  No  man  who  ever  wanted  a 
thing  with  his  whole  heart  ever  stopped  to  consider 
how  his  getting  it  would  affect  other  people,  unless 
the  point  of  honour  was  involved." 


COELEONE  305 

"  And  there  is  no  point  of  honour  here,  is  there  ?  " 
asked  Orsino,  as  a  man  asks  a  question  to  which  he 
knows  the  answer. 

"You  know  what  you  have  said  to  Donna  Vit- 
toria,"  answered  Ippolito.  "  I  do  not." 

"  I  have  asked  her  to  marry  me,  and  she  has  con- 
sented." Orsino  laughed  a  little  dryly.  "  That  is 
the  way  one  puts  it,  I  believe,"  he  added. 

"  Then  I  should  say  that  unless  she,  of  her  own 
accord,  releases  you  from  your  word,  the  point  of 
honour  lies  in  not  withdrawing  it,"  replied  the 
priest.  "  If  you  did,  it  would  mean  that  you  were 
not  willing  to  take  the  risks  involved  in  keeping 
it,  would  it  not  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  would.  I  wish  you  could  make 
our  father  see  that." 

"  People  of  the  previous  generation  never  see 
what  happens  in  ours.  They  only  infer  what  ought 
to  happen  if  all  their  own  prejudices  had  been 
canonical  law  for  fifty  years." 

"  That  is  sedition,"  laughed  Orsino,  whose  spirits 
had  risen  suddenly. 

"  No,  it  is  criticism,  and  criticism  is  only  called 
sedition  under  despotic  governments.  There  is  no 
reason  why  grown  men,  like  you  and  me,  should 
not  criticise-  their  fathers  and  mothers  up  to  a  cer- 
tain point,  within  limits  of  respect.  We  honour 
them,  but  they  are  not  gods,  that  we  should  wor- 
ship them.  When  we  were  little  boys  we  supposed 


VOL.   I. X 


306  COKLEONE 

that  our  father  knew  everything  about  everything. 
We  are  aware,  now,  that  we  understand  many 
things  which  have  grown  up  in  our  day  much  bet- 
ter than  he  does.  To  go  on  supposing  that  he 
knew-  everything,  in  spite  of  evidence,  would  be 
a  gross  form  of  superstition.  Superstition,  I  sup- 
pose, means  a  survival,  to  wit,  the  survival  of  some 
obsolete  belief.  That  is  exactly  what  it  would  be 
in  us  to  artificially  maintain  the  belief  of  our 
childhood  in  our  parents'  omniscience.  Has  your 
love  for  Donna  Vittoria  anything  to  do  with  the 
actual  amount  of  her  knowledge  at  any  moment? 
No.  But  love  appears  to  be  made  up  of  passion 
and  affection.  Therefore  affection  is  independent 
of  any  such  knowledge  in  its  object.  Therefore 
we  love  our  parents  quite  -independently  of  what 
they  know  or  do  not  know  about  life,  or  mathe- 
matics, and  we  may,  consequently,  criticise  such 
knowledge  in  them  on  its  own  merits,  without  in 
the  least  detracting  from  our  affection  for  them- 
selves." 

"You  are  a  very  satisfactory  brother,"  said  Or- 
sino,  smiling  at  his  brother's  speech.  "But  I  am 
not  sure  that  you  are  a  strictly  orthodox  priest  on 
the  question  of  family  relations." 

"  I  give  you  a  theory  of  such  relations,"  answered 
Ippolito.  "  In  actual  practice  I  believe  that  our 
mother  is  one  of  the  wisest  women  living,  with- 
out being  in  the  smallest  degree  intellectual.  It 


COELEONE  307 

is  true  that  my  experience  of  women  is  limited, 
but  I  hear  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  them.  She  is 
fond  of  Donna  Vittoria,  I  am  sure." 

"  Yes  —  very.  But  she  sees  fifty  reasons  why  I 
had  better  not  marry  her." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  Ippolito,  calmly. 

"You?  Why,  you  have  been  urging  me  to  marry 
her  in  spite  of  everything!  " 

"  Oh,  no.  I  have  only  proved  to  you  that  if  you 
love  her  enough,  you  will  marry  her  in  spite  of 
everything.  That  is  a  very  different  thing." 

"  Priest ! "  laughed  Orsino.     "  Sophist ! " 

"Anything  you  like,"  answered  Ippolito,  swing- 
ing round  on  the  piano  stool  and  striking  a  chord. 
"All  the  same,  I  hope  you  may  marry  her,  and 
have  no  bad  consequences  to  deal  with,  and  I  will 
help  you  if  I  can." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Orsino ;  but  his  voice  was 
drowned  by  a  burst  of  loud  and  intricate  music, 
as  Ippolito's  white  fingers  flew  over  the  piano  while 
he  stared  at  the  ceiling,  his  head  thrown  back,  his 
cigar  sticking  up  from  between  his  teeth,  he  him- 
self apparently  unaware  of  what  his  hands  were 
doing,  and  merely  listening  to  the  music. 

Orsino  was  momentarily  cheered  and  encouraged 
by  all  his  brother  had  said,  but  the  situation  was 
not  materially  improved  thereby.  It  was,  indeed, 
almost  as  bad  as  it  could  be,  and  an  older  and 
wiser  man  than  Orsino  would  have  expected  that 


308  COELEONE 

something  must  occur  before  long,  either  to  im- 
prove it,  or  to  cut  it  short  at  once  and  for  ever,  for 
the  simple  reason  that  it  could  neither  last,  as  it 
stood,  nor  be  made  more  difficult  by  anything  which 
could  happen. 


CHAPTER   XIX 

WHEN  Orsino  and  Ippolito  reached  Camaldoli 
everything  seemed  to  be  quiet,  and  San  Giacinto 
himself  was  greatly  encouraged  by  the  turn  mat- 
ters had  taken.  .During  the  first  day  or  two  after 
Orsino's  departure  there  had  still  been  consider- 
able curiosity  among  the  people  of  Santa  Vittoria, 
and  more  than  once  San  Giacinto  had  made  little 
speeches,  in  his  direct  manner,  to  the  peasants  and 
villagers  who  hung  about  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  big  old  house.  But  after  that  he  had  not  been  dis- 
turbed, and  everything  appeared  to  be  progressing 
favourably.  The  year  was  one  of  abundance,  the 
orange  crop,  which  in  Sicily  is  all  gathered  before 
May,  had  turned  out  well,  the  grapes  promised 
an  abundant  vintage,  and  even  the  olives  had  blos- 
somed plentifully,  though  it  was  still  too  early  to 
make  accurate  predictions  about  the  oil.  On  the 
whole  the  prospects  for  the  year  were  unusually 
satisfactory,  and  San  Giacinto  congratulated  himself 
on  having  chanced  to  buy  the  place  in  a  good  year. 
In  an  agricultural  country  like  that  part  of  Sicily, 
the  temper  of  the  people  is  profoundly  affected  by 
the  harvest. 

309 


310  CORLEONE 

The  outlaws  had  not  been  heard  of  in  the 
neighbourhood  since  Ferdinando  Pagliuca's  death. 
They  were  said  to  be  in  the  region  about  Noto,  at 
some  distance  from  Camaldoli,  towards  the  south- 
west. San  Giacinto  was  surprised  at  not  having 
even  received  an  anonymous  letter  from  one  of 
Ferdinando's  friends.  He  did  not  suppose  that 
the  present  pacific  state  of  things  could  last  for- 
ever, but  he  had  been  prepared  to  meet  with  a 
great  deal  more  opposition  in  what  he  did. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  was  hindered  at  every 
step  by  small  difficulties  which  always  seemed  to 
be  perfectly  natural.  If  he  wished  to  build  a  bit 
of  wall,  he  found  it  impossible  to  obtain  stone  or 
quicklime,  though  there  were  plenty  of  masons 
professing  themselves  ready  to  work.  He  pointed 
to  a  quantity  of  slaked  lime  drying  in  a  deep  tank 
near  the  gate  of  Santa  Vittoria. 

''Eh,"  said  the  head  mason,  shaking  his  head, 
"that  belongs  to  the  mayor,  and  he  will  not  sell 
it." 

And,  in  fact,  the  mayor  flatly  refused  to  part 
with  a  single  hodful  of  the  lime,  saying  that  he 
himself  was  going  to  repair  his  house. 

The  masons  said  that  by  and  by  it  could  be 
got  from  the  lime-burners,  who  had  sold  their  last 
burning  to  a  man  in  Randazzo.  Stone  was  to  be 
had  for  the  .quarrying,  in  the  black  lauds  above 
Camaldoli,  but  there  were  no  quarryinen  in  Santa 


CORLEONE  311 

Vittoria,  and  the  gang  of  them  that  lived  higher 
up  Etna  had  taken  a  large  contract. 

"Patience,"  said  the  head  mason,  gravely.  "In 
time  you  will  have  all  you  want." 

As  the  bit  of  wall  was  not  a  very  important 
matter,  San  Giacinto  did  not  care  to  go  to  the 
expense  of  bringing  material  from  a  great  distance, 
and  decided  to  wait.  Meanwhile  he  hired  certain 
men  from  Bronte  to  come  and  clear  out  all  the 
bush  and  scrub  from  among  the  trees.  They  came 
without  tools.  He  gave  them  tools  that  belonged 
to  the  tenants  of  Camaldoli,  the  same  which  the 
latter  had  lent  him  on  the  first  day  to  make  a 
clearing  close  to  the  house.  The  Bronte  men 
worked  for  two  hours  and  then  came  out  of  the 
brush  and  sat  down  quietly  in  the  sun. 

"  The  tools  are  not  good  for  anything,"  they  said 
gravely.  "  We  cannot  work  with  them." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  them?"  asked  San 
Giacinto. 

"  They  are  dull.     They  would  not  cut  strings." 

"Take  them  away  and  have  them  ground,"  said 
San  Giacinto. 

"  Are  there  knife-grinders  in  this  country  ? " 
asked  the  men.  "Where  are  they?  No.  They 
come,  they  stay  a  day,  perhaps  two  days,  and  they 
go  away." 

San  Giacinto  looked  at  the  men  thoughtfully  a 
moment,  then  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  them  to 


312  COR  LEONE 

their  own  devices.  He  began  to  understand.  The 
men  neither  wished  to  refuse  to  work  for  him,  nor 
dared  to  do  the  work  they  undertook,  when  its 
execution  would  in  any  way  improve  the  defensive 
conditions  of  Camaldoli.  San  Giacinto  came  back 
when  the  men  were  gone,  with  two  or  three  of  the 
soldiers,  took  a  hatchet  himself,  and  leading  the 
way  proceeded  to  cut  away  the  thorns  and  bram- 
.bles,  systematically  clearing  the  ground  so  as  to 
leave  no  cover  under  which  an  armed  man  could 
approach  the  house  unnoticed.  He  regularly  de- 
voted a  part  of  each  day  to  the  work,  until  it  was 
finished. 

As  soon  as  Ferdinando's  body  had  been  removed, 
there  had  been  no  difficulty  in  getting  men  to  work 
indoors,  and  by  the  time  Orsino  arrived,  consider- 
able improvements  had  been  effected.  But  the 
men  would  not  have  begun  work  in  a  house  where 
an  unburied  dead  person  was  still  lying. 

The  three  Saracinesca  strolled  up  to  Santa  Vit- 
toria  late  in  the  afternoon,  San  Giacinto  and  Orsino 
carrying  their  rifles,  while  Ippolito  walked  along 
with  his  hands  behind  him,  just  catching  up  his 
little  silk  mantle,  staring  hard  at  all  the  new  sights 
of  the  road,  and  mentally  wondering  what  sort  of 
instrument  he  should  find  in  the  little  church. 

The  place  was  a  mere  village  without  any  mediae- 
val wall,  though  there  was  a  sort  of  archway  at  the 
principal  entrance  which  was  generally  called  the 


COELEONE  313 

gate.  Just  beyond  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain, 
away  from  Camaldoli,  and  about  fifty  yards  from 
this  gateway  of  the  village,  was  a  little  white 
church  with  a  tiled  roof.  It  had  a  modern  look, 
as  though  it  had  been  lately  restored.  Then  the 
village  straggled  down  the  rough  descent  towards 
the  shallow  valley  beyond,  having  its  own  church 
in  the  little  market  place.  It  was  distinctly 
clean,  having  decently  paved  streets  and  solid 
stone  houses  with  massive  mullions,  and  iron  bal- 
conies painted  red.  There  were  a  few  small 
shops  of  the  kind  always  seen  in  Italian  villages. 
The  apothecary's  was  in  the  market  place,  the 
general  shop  was  in  the  main  street,  opposite  a 
wine-seller's,  the  telegraph  office  —  a  very  recent 
innovation  —  was  over  against  the  chemist's  and 
was  worked  by  the  postmaster,  and  in  what  had 
once  been  a  small  convent,  further  on,  at  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  the  carabineers  were  lodged. 
At  San  Giacinto's  request,  fifty  men  of  the  line 
infantry  had  been  quartered  in  the  village  within 
the  last  few  days,  the  order  having  been  tele- 
graphed from  Rome  on  Orsino's  representations 
to  the  Minister  of  the  Interior.  The  people  treated 
the  men  and  their  two  young  officers  civilly,  but 
secretly  resented  their  presence. 

Nowadays,  every  Italian  village  has  a  walled 
cemetery  at  some  distance  from  it.  The  burial 
ground  of  Santa  Vittoria  overlooked  Camaldoli; 


314  CORLEONE 

being  situated  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  little 
white  church  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  so 
that  it  was  out  of  sight  of  the  village.  It  was  a 
grimly  bare  place.  Four  walls,  six  feet  high,  of 
rough  tufo  and  unplastered,  enclosed  four  or  five 
acres  of  land.  A  painted  iron  gate  opened  upon  the 
road,  and  against  the  opposite  wall,  inside,  was  built 
a  small  mortuary  chapel.  The  cemetery  had  not 
been  long  in  use,  and  there  were  not  more  than  a 
score  of  black  crosses  sticking  in  the  earth  to  mark 
as  many  graves.  There  was  no  pretence  at  cul- 
tivation. The  clods  were  heaped  up  symmetrically 
at  each  grave,  and  a  little  rough  grass  grew  on 
some  of  them.  There  was  not  a  tree,  nor  a  flower, 
nor  a  creeper  to  relieve  the  dusty  dreariness  of 
it,  and  the  road  itself  was  not  more  dry  and 
arid.  The  little  grass  that  grew  had  pushed 
itself  up  just  in  the  gate-way,  where  few  feet 
ever  passed,  and  everyone  knows  what  a  desolate 
look  a  grass-grown  entrance  gives  to  any  place, 
even  to  a  churchyard.  There  were  low,  round 
curbstones  on  each  side  of  the  gate. 

The  three  gentlemen  strolled  slowly  up  thejhill 
in  the  warm  afternoon  sunshine,  talking  as  they 
came.  Ippolito  was  a  little  ahead  of  the  others, 
for  he  was  light  on  his  feet,  and  walked  easily. 

"  That  is  the  cemetery,"  observed  San  Giacinto  to 
Orsino,  pointing  at  the  hill.  "  That  is  where  they 
buried  your  friend  Ferdinando  Corleone  on  the  day 


COBLEONE  315 

you  left.  I  suppose  they  will  put  up  a  monument 
to  him." 

"  His  brothers  will  not,"  answered  Orsino.  "  They 
disown  all  connexion  with  him." 

"  Amiable  race  !  "  laughed  San  Giacinto.  "  There 
is  a  figure  like  a  monument  sitting  outside  the 
gate,"  he  added.  "  Do  you  see  it  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  woman  in  black,"  said  Orsino.  "  She 
is  sitting  on  something  by  the  roadside." 

They  were  still  a  long  way  off,  but  both  had 
good  eyes. 

"  She  is  probably  resting  and  sitting  on  her 
bundle,"  observed  San  Giacinto. 

"She  .is  sitting  on  a  stone,  —  on  one  of  the 
curbstones,"  said  Ippolito.  "  She  has  her  head 
bent  down." 

"  He  sees  better  than  either  of  us,"  said  Orsino, 
with  a  laugh.  "  I  wonder  why  nobody  ever  expects 
a  priest  to  do  anything  particularly  well  except 
pray  ?  Ippolito  can  walk  as  well  as  we  can,  he  sees 
better,  he  could  probably  beat  either  of  us  with  a 
pistol  or  a  rifle  if  he  tried,  and  I  am  sure  he  is  far 
more  clever  in. -fifty  ways  than  I  am.  Yet  every- 
one in  the  family  takes  it  for  granted  that  he  is  no 
better  than  a  girl  at  anything  that  men  do.  He 
was  quite  right  about  the  woman.  She  is  bending 
over  —  her  face  must  be  almost  touching  her  knees. 
It  is  a  strange  attitude." 

"  Probably  some  woman  who  has  a  relation  bur- 


316  CORLEONE 

led  in  the  cemetery  —  her  child,  perhaps,"  sug- 
gested Ippolito.  "She  stops  at  the  gate  to  say 
a  prayer  when  she  goes  by." 

"Then  she  would  kneel,  I  should  think,"  an- 
swered Orsino. 

Almost  unconsciously  they  all  three  quickened 
their  pace  a  little,  though  the  hill  grew  steeper 
just  there.  As  they  drew  near,  the  outline  of  the 
woman  in  black  became  distinct  against  the  dark 
tufo  wall  behind  her,  for  the  sunlight  fell  full  upon 
her,  where  she  sat.  It  was  a  beautiful  outline,  too, 
full  of  expression  and  simple  tragedy.  She  sat 
very  low,  on  the  round  curbstone,  one  small  foot 
thrust  forward  and  leading  the  folds  of -the  loose 
black  skirt,  both  white  hands  clasped  about  the 
higher  knee,  towards  which  the  covered  head  bent 
low,  so  that  the  face  could  not  be  seen  at  all.  Not 
a  line  nor  fold  stirred  as  the  three  men  came  up 
to  her. 

Orsino  recognized  Concetta,  though  he  could  not 
see  her  features.  Her  exceptional  grace  betrayed 
itself  unmistakably,  and  he  should  have  known  any- 
where the  white  hands  that  had  been  lifted  up  to 
him  when  he  had  stood  at  the  window  in  the  grey 
dawn.  But  he  said  nothing  about  it  to  San  Gia- 
cinto,  for  he  understood  her  grief,  and  he  could 
not  have  spoken  of  her  without  being  heard  by  her 
just  then. 

But  Ippolito  went  up  to  her,  before  his  brother 


CORLEONE  317 

could  hinder  him.  She  was  a  lonely  and  unhappy 
creature,  and  he  was  one  of  those  really  charitable 
people  who  cannot  pass  by  any  suffering  without 
trying  to  help  it.  He  stood  still  beside  her. 

"  What  is  your  trouble  ? "  he  asked  gently. 
"  Can  anyone  help  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  move  at  first,  but"  a  voice  of  pain 
came  with  slow  accents  from  under  the  black 
shawl  that  fell  over  her  face,  almost  to  her  knee. 

"God  alone  can  help  the  dead,"  it  answered. 

"But  you  are  alive,  my  child,"  said  Ippolito, 
bending  down  a  little. 

The  covered  head  moved  slowly  from  side  to 
side,  denying. 

"  Who  are  you,  that  speak  of  life  ?  "  asked  the 
sorrowful  young  voice.  "  Are  you  the  Angel  of  the 
Resurrection  ?  Go  in  peace,  with  Our  Lady,  for  I 
am  dead." 

Ippolito  thought  that  she  must  be  mad,  and  that 
it  might  be  better  to  leave  her  alone.  His  brother 
and  cousin  had  gone  on,  up  the  road,  and  were  wait- 
ing for  him  at  a  little  distance. 

"May  you  find  peace  and  comfort,"  said  the 
young  priest,  quietly,  and  he  moved  away. 

But  he  turned  to  look  back  at  her,  for  she  seemed 
the  saddest  woman  he  had  ever  seen,  and  her  voice 
was  the  saddest  he  had  ever  heard.  Something  in 
his  own  speech  had  stirred  her  a  little,  for  when  he 
looked  again  she  had  raised  her  head,  and  was  lift- 


318  COS  LEONE 

ing  the  black  shawl  so  that  she  could  see  him. 
She  was  about  to  speak,  and  he  stopped  where  he 
was,  two  paces  from  her,  surprised  by  her  extraor- 
dinary beauty  and  unnatural  pallor. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  she  asked  slowly.  "  You  are 
a  stranger." 

"  I  am  Ippolito  Saracinesca,  a  priest,"  answered 
the  young  man. 

At  the  name,  she  started,  and  her  sad  eyes 
opened  wide.  Then  she  saw  the  other  two  men 
standing  in  the  road  a  little  way  off.  Slowly,  and 
with  perfect  grace,  she  rose  from  her  low  seat. 

"  And  those  two  —  there  —  who  are  they  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  They  are  also  Saracinesca,"  said  Ippolito.  "  The 
one  is  my  brother,  the  other  is  my  cousin.  We  are 
three  of  the  same  name." 

He  answered  her  question  quite  naturally,  but  he 
felt  sure  that  she  was  mad.  By  this  time  San  Gia- 
cinto  was  growing  impatient,  and  he  began  to  move 
a  few  steps  nearer  to  call  Ippolito.  But  the  latter 
found  it  hard  to  turn  away  from  the  deep  eyes  and 
the  pale  face  before  him. 

"  Then  there  were  three  of  you,"  said  Concetta, 
in  a  tone  in  which  scorn  sharpened  grief."  "It 
is  no  wonder  that  you  killed  him  between  you." 

"  Whom  ?  "  asked  Ippolito,  very  much  surprised 
at  the  new  turn  of  her  speech. 

"  Whom  ? "     All   at   once  there  was  something 


COH  LEONE  319 

wild  in  her  rising  inflexion.  "You  ask  of  me 
who  it  was  whom  you  killed  down  there  in  the 
woods  ?  Of  me,  Concetta  ?  Of  me,  his  betrothed  ? 
Of  me,  who  prayed  to  your  brother,  there,  that 
I  might  be  let  in,  to  wash  my  love's  face  with 
my  tears  ?  But  if  I  had  known  to  whom  I  was 
praying,  there  would  have  been  two  dead  men 
lying  there  in  the  chapel  of  Camaldoli  —  there 
would  have  been  two  black  crosses  in  there,  be- 
hind the  gate  —  do  you  see  ?  There  it  is !  The 
last  on  the  left.  No  one  has  died  since,  but  if 
God  were  just,  the  next  should  be  one  of  you, 
and  the  next  another,  and  then  another  —  ah, 
God  !  If  I  had  something  in  these  hands  — " 

She  had  pointed  at  Ferdinando's  grave,  throwing 
her  arm  backwards,  while  she  kept  her  eyes  on 
Ippolito.  Now,  with  a  gesture  of  the  people,  as 
she  longed  for  a  weapon,  she  thrust  out  her  small 
white  fists,  tightly  clenched,  towards  the  priest's 
heart,  then  opened  them  suddenly,  in  a  despairing 
way,  and  let  her  arms  fall  to  her  sides. 

"  Saracinesca,  Saracinesca,"  she  repeated  slowly, 
her  voice  sinking;  "three  Saracinesca  have  made 
one  widow !  But  one  widow  may  yet  make  many 
widows,  and  many  mourning  mothers,  and  the 
justice  of  Heaven  is  not  the  justice  of  man." 

San  Giacinto  and  Orsino  had  gradually  ap- 
proached Ippolito,  and  now  stood  beside  him, 
facing  the  beautiful,  wild  girl,  in  her  desolation. 


320  COHLEONE 

Grave  and  thoughtful,  the  three  kinsmen  stood 
side  by  side. 

There  was  nothing  theatrical  nor  unreal  in  the 
situation.  One  of  themselves  had  killed  the  girl's 
betrothed  husband,  whom  she  had  loved  with  all 
her  soul.  That  was  the  plain  fact,  and  Orsino 
had  never  ceased  to  realize  it.  Unhesitatingly, 
and  in  honourable  self-defence,  he  had  done  a  deed 
by  which  many. were  suffering  greatly,  and  he  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  them  in  their  grief. 
Somehow,  it  seemed  unjust  to  him  that  the  girl 
should  accuse  his  brother  and  his  cousin  of  Ferdi- 
naudo's  death. 

As  she  paused,  facing  them,  breathless  with  the 
wave  of  returning  pain,  rather  than  from  speaking, 
Orsino  moved  forward,  a  little  in  front  of  Ippolito. 

"  I  killed  Ferdinando  Corleone,"  he  said,  gravely. 
'•'Do  not  accuse  us  all  three,  nor  curse  us  all 
three." 

She  turned  her  great  eyes  to  his  face,  but  her 
expression  did  not  change.  'Possibly  she  did  not 
believe  him. 

"The  dead  see,"  she  answered  slowly.  "They 
know  —  they  know — they  see  both  you  and  me. 
And  the  dead  do  not  forget." 

A  flying  cloud  passed  over  the  sun,  and  the 
desolate  land  was  suddenly  all  black  and  grey  and 
stony,  with  the  solemn  vastness  of  the  mountain 
behind.  Concetta  drew  her  shawl  up  over  her 


COELEONE  321 

head,  as  though  she  were  cold,  and  turned  from 
the  three  men  with  a  simple  dignity,  and  knelt 
down  on  the  rough,  broken  stones,  where  the  blades 
of  coarse  grass  shot  up  between,  close  to  the  gate, 
and  she  clasped  her  hands  together  round  one  of 
the  dusty,  painted  iron  rails. 

"  Let  us  go,"  said  San  Giacinto's  deep  voice. 
"It  is  better  to  leave  her,  poor  girl." 

She  did  not  look  back  at  them  as  they  walked 
quietly  up  the  road.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  one 
point,  and  her  lips  moved  quickly,  forming  whis- 
pered words. 

"Maria  Santissima,  let  there  be  three  black 
crosses !  Mother  of  God,  three  black  crosses ! 
Mother  of  Sorrows,  three  black  crosses ! " 

And  over  and  over  again,  she  repeated  the  ter- 
rible little  prayer. 

VOL.  I. — Y 


CHAPTEE  XX 

THE  three  men  entered  the  village  and  walked 
through  the  main  street.  The  low  afternoon  sun 
was  shining  brightly  again,  and  only  the  people 
who  lived  on  the  shady  side  of  the  street  had 
opened  their  windows.  Many  of  them  had  little 
iron  balconies  in  which  quantities  of  magnificent 
dark  carnations  were  blooming,  planted  in  long, 
earthenware,  trough-like  pots,  and  hanging  down 
by  their  long  stalks  that  thrust  themselves  be- 
tween the  railings.  Outside  the  windows  of  the 
poorer  houses,  too,  great  bunches  of  herbs  were 
hung  up  to  dry  in  the  sun,  and  strings  of  scarlet 
peppers  had  already  begun  to  appear,  though  it 
was  early  for  them  yet.  Later,  towards  the 
autumn,  the  people  hang  up  the  canteloup  melons 
of  the  south,  in  their  rough  green  and  grey  rinds, 
by  neatly  made  slings  of  twisted  grass,  but  it  was 
not  time  for  them  yet.  In  some  of  the  houses  the 
people  were  packing  the  last  of  the  oranges  to  be 
sent  down  to  Piedimonte  and  thence  to  Messina 
for  England  and  America,  passing  each  orange 
through  a  wooden  ring  to  measure  it,  and  rejecting 
those  that  were  much  too  small  or  much  too  large, 
322 


COR  LEONE  323 

then  wrapping  each  one  separately  in  tissue  paper, 
while  other  women  packed  them  neatly  in  thin 
deal  boxes.  The  air  smelt  of  them  and  of  the 
carnations  in  the  balconies,  for  Santa  Vittoria  was 
a  clean  and  sweet  village.  The  cleanliness  of  the 
thoroughbred  Oriental,  a  very  different  being  from 
the  filthy  Levantine,  begins  in  Sicily,  and  distin- 
guishes the  Sicilians  of  the  hills  from  the  Cala- 
brians  and  from  the  Sicilians  of  such  seaport  towns 
as  Messina.  Moreover,  there  are  no  beggars  in  the 
hill  towns. 

San  Giacinto  had  his  pocket  full  of  letters  for 
the  post  office,  and  wished  to  see  the  lieutenant  in 
command  of  the  soldiers;  but  Orsino  had  nothing 
to  do,  and  Ippolito  had  made  up  his  mind  not  to 
return  to  Camaldoli  without  having  seen  the  organ 
in  the  church.  The  two  brothers  went  off  in 
search  of  the  sacristan,  for  the  church  was  closed. 

They  found  him,  after  some  enquiry,  helping  to 
pack  oranges  in  a  great  vaulted  room  that  opened 
upon  the  street.  He  was  a  fat  man,  cross-eyed, 
with  a  sort  of  clerical  expression. 

"You  wish  to, see  the  organ,"  he  said,  coming 
out  into  the  street.  "Truly  you  will  see  a  fine 
thing!  If  you  only  do  not  hear  it!  It  makes 
boom,  boom,  and  wee,  wee  —  and  that  is  all  it 
makes.  I  wager  that  not  even  ten  cats  could  make 
a  noise  like  our  organ.  Do  you  know  that  it  is 
very  aged?  Surely,  it  remembers  the  ark  of  Noah, 


324  COB  LEONE 

and  Saint  Paul  must  have  brought  it  with  him. 
But  then,  you  shall  see;  and  if  you  wish  to  hear 
it,  I  take  no  responsibility." 

Ippolito  was  not  greatly  encouraged  by  such  a 
prospect. 

"But  when  you  have  a  festival,  what  do  you 
do?  "  he  enquired. 

"We  help  it,  of  course.  How  should  one  do? 
Don  Atanasio,  the  apothecary,  plays  the  clarinet. 
He  is  a  professor !  Him,  indeed,  you  should  hear 
when  he  plays  at  the  elevation.  You  would  think 
you  heard  the  little  angels  whistling  in  Paradise ! 
I,  to  serve  you,  play  the  double  bass  a  little,  and 
Don  Ciccio,  the  carpenter,  plays  the  drum.  Being 
used  to  the  hammer,  he  does  it  not  badly.  And 
all  the  time  the  organ  makes  boom,  boom,  and 
wee,  wee.  It  is  a  fine  concert,  but  there  is  much 
sentiment  of  devotion,  and  the  women  sing.  It 
seems  that  thus  it  pleases  the  saints." 

"  Do  not  the  men  sing  too  ? "  asked  Orsino, 
idly. 

"Men?  How  could  men  sing  in  church?  A 
man  can  sing  a  'cantilena'  in  the  fields,  but  in 
church  it  is  the  women  who  sing.  They  know  all 
the  words.  God  has  made  them  so.  There  is  that 
girl  of  the  notary  in  Raudazzo,  for  instance  —  you 
should  hear  her  sing!  " 

"  I  have  heard  her  in  Home,"  said  Orsino.  "  But 
she  sings  in  a  theatre." 


COELEONE  325 

"  A  theatre?  Who  knows  how  a  theatre  is  made? 
See  how  many  things  men  have  invented!" 

They  reached  the  door  of  the  church. 

"Signori,  do  you  really  wish  to  see  this  organ?" 
asked  the  sacristan.  "  There  is  a  much  better  one 
in  the  little  church  outside  the  gate.  But  the  day 
is  hot,  and  if  you  only  wish  to  see  an  organ,  this 
one  is  nearer." 

"  Let  me  see  the  good  one,  by  all  means, "  said 
Ippolito.  "I  wish  to  play  on  it  —  not  to  see  it! 
I  have  seen  hundreds  of  organs." 

"  Hundreds  of  organs ! "  exclaimed  the  man  to 
himself.  "Capers!  This  stranger  has  travelled 
much!  But  if  it  is  indeed  not  too  hot  for  you," 
he  said,  addressing  Ippolito,  "we  will  go  to  Santa 
Vittoria." 

"It  is  not  hot  at  this  hour,"  laughed  Orsino. 
"We  have  walked  up  from  Camaldoli." 

"On  foot!"  The  fat  sacristan  either  was,  or 
pretended  to  be,  amazed.  "Great  signori  like 
you,  to  come  all  that  distance  on  foot ! " 

"What  is  there  surprising  in  that?"  enquired 
Ippolito.  "We" have  legs." 

"Birds  also  have  legs,"  observed  the  man.  "But 
they  fly.  It  is  only  the  chickens  that  walk,  like 
poor  people.  I  say  that  money  is  wings.  If  I 
were  a  great  s  ignore,  like  you,  I,  would  not  even 
walk  upstairs.  I  would  be  carried.  Why  should 
I  walk?  In  order  to  be  tired?  It  would  be  a 


326  CORLEONE 

folly,  if  I  were  rich.  I,  if  you  ask  me,  I  like  to 
eat  well,  to  drink  well,  and  then  to  sleep  well.  A 
man  who  could  do  these  three  things  should  be 
always  happy.  But  the  poor  are  always  in 
thought." 

"  So  are  the  rich, "  observed  Ippolito. 

"Yes,  signore,  for  their  souls,  for  we  are  all 
sinners;  but  not  for  their  bodies,  because  they 
have  always  something  to  eat.  What  do  I  say? 
They  eat  meat  every  day,  and  so  they  are  strong 
and  have  no  thought  for  their  bodies.  But  one  of 
us,  what  does  he  eat?  A  little  bread,  a  little 
salad,  an  onion,  and  with  this  in  our  bodies  we 
have  to  move  the  earth.  The  world  is  thus  made. 
Patience ! " 

Thus  philosophizing,  the  fat  man  rolled  un- 
wieldily  along  beside  the  two  gentlemen,  swinging 
his  keys  in  his  hand. 

"  If  I  had  made  the  world,  it  should  be  another 
thing,"  he  continued,  for  he  was  a  loquacious  man. 
"  In  the  first  place,  I  would  have  made  wine  clear, 
like  water,  and  I  would  have  made  water  black, 
like  wine.  Thus  if  the  wine-seller  put  water  into 
his  wine,  we  should  all  see  it.  Another  thing  I 
would  have  done.  I  would  have  made  corn  grow 
on  trees,  like  olives.  In  that  way,  we  should  have 
planted  it  once  in  two  hundred  years,  as  we  do  the 
olive  trees,  and  there  would  have  been  less  fatigue. 
Is  not  that  a  good  thought?" 


CORLEONE  327 

"Very  original,"  said  Orsino.  "It  had  never 
struck  me." 

"I  would  also  have  made  men  so  that  their 
hair  should  stand  on  end  when  they  are  telling 
lies,  as  a  donkey  lifts  his  tail  when  he  brays. 
That  would  also  have  been  good.  But  the  Creator 
did  not  think  of  it  in  time.  Patience!  They  say 
it  will  be  different  in  Paradise.  Hope  costs  little, 
but  you  cannot  cook  it." 

"You  are  a  philosopher,"  observed  Ippolito. 

"No,  signore,"  answered  the  sacristan.  "You 
have  been  misinformed.  I  am  a  grocer,  or,  to  say 
it  better,  I  am  the  brother  of  the  grocer.  When 
it  is  the  season,  after  Santa  Teresa's  day,  I  kill  the 
pigs  and  salt  the  hams  and  make  the  sausages.  I 
am  also  the  sacristan,  but  that  yields  me  little ; 
for  although  there  is  much  devotion  in  our  town 
at  festivals,  there  is  little  of  it  among  private  per- 
sons. Sometimes  an  old  woman  brings  a  candle  to 
the  Madonna,  and  she  gives  a  soldo  to  have  it 
lighted.  What  is  that?  Can  one  live  with  a 
soldo  now  and  then?  But  my  brother,  thanks 
be  to  Heaven,  is"  well-to-do,  and  a  widower.  He 
makes  me  live  with  him.  He  had  a  son  once,  but, 
health  to  you,  Christ  and  the  sea  took  the  boy 
when  he  was  not  yet  twenty.  Therefore  I  live 
with  him,  to  divert  him  a  little,  and  I  kill  the 
pigs,  speaking  with  respect  of  your  face." 

"And  what  do  you  do  during  the  rest  of  the 


328  COELEONE 

year?"  enquired  Orsino,  as  they  neared  the  gate. 

"Eh,  I  live  so.  According  to  the  season,  I  pack 
oranges,  I  trim  vines,  I  make  the  wine  for  my 
brother,  and  the  oil,  I  take  the  honey  and  the  wax 
from  the  bees,  I  graft  good  fruit  upon  the  wild 
pear  trees  —  what  should  I  do?  A  little  of  every- 
thing, in  order  of  eat." 

"  But  your  brother  seems  to  be  rich.  Have  you 
nothing?  " 

"  Signore,  to  me  money  comes  like  a  freshet  in 
spring  and  runs  away,  and  immediately  I  am  dry. 
But  to  my  brother  it  comes  like  water  into  a  well, 
and  it  stays  there.  Men  are  thus  made.  The  one 
gives,  the  other  takes ;  the  one  shuts  his  hand,  the 
other  opens  his.  My  mother,  blessed  soul,  used  to 
say  to  me,  '  Take  care,  my  son,  for  when  you  are 
old,  you  will  go  in  rags ! '  But  thanks  be  to 
Heaven,  I  have  my  brother,  and  I  am  as  you 
see  me." 

They  came  to  the  little  church  with  its  freshly 
whitewashed  walls  and  tiled  roof. 

"This  is  the  chapel  of  Santa  Vittoria,"  said  the 
fat  sacristan.  "  The  church  in  the  town  is  dedi- 
cated to  Our  Lady  of  Victories,  but  this  is  the  chapel 
of  the  saint,  and  there  is  more  devotion  here, 
though  it  is  small,  and  at  the  great  feast  of  Santa 
Vittoria,  the  procession  starts  from  here  and  goes 
to  the  church,  and  returns  here." 

"It  looks  new,"  observed  Ippolito. 


COBLEONE  329 

"  Eh,  if  all  things  were  what  they  seem !  "  The 
man  chuckled  as  he  turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 
"You  shall  see  inside  whether  it  is  new.  It  is 
older  than  Saint  Peter's  in  Rome." 

And  so  it  was,  by  two  or  three  centuries.     It 
was  a  dark  little  building,  of  the  Norman  period, 
with  low  arches  and  solid  little  pillars  terminating 
in  curiously  carved  capitals.     It  had  a  little  nave 
with  intercommunicating  side  chapels,  like  aisles. 
Over  the  door  was   a   small  loft  containing  the 
organ,    the    object    of    Ippolito's    visit.      In    the 
uneven  floor  there  were  slabs  with  deep  cut  but 
much  worn  figures  of  knights  and  prelates  in  stiff 
armour  or  long  and  equally  stiff   looking   robes, 
their  heads  surrounded  by  almost  illegible  inscrip- 
tions.    Over  the  principal  altar  there  was  a  bad 
painting  of  Saint  Vittoria,  half  covered  with  ex- 
voto  offerings  of  silver  hearts,  while  on  each  side 
of  the  picture  were  hung  up  scores  of  hollow  wax 
models  of  arms,  legs,  and  other  parts  of  the  human 
body,  realistically  coloured,  all  remembrances  of 
recoveries    from    illness,    accident,    and    disease, 
attributed  to  the  beneficent   intervention   of  the 
saint.     But  above,  in  the  little  vault  of  the  apse, 
there  were  some  very  ancient  and  well  preserved 
mosaics,  magnificently  rich  in  tone.     There  was, 
of  course,  no  dome,  and  the  dim  light  came  in 
through  low  windows  high  up  in  the  nave,  above 
the  lower  side  chapels.     The  church  was  clean  and 


330  CORLEONE 

well  kept,  and  on  each  side  there  were  half  a  dozen 
benches  painted  with  a  vivid  sky-blue  colour. 

The  two  brothers  looked  about,  with  some 
curiosity,  while  the  fat  sacristan  slowly  jingled 
his  bunch  of  keys  against  his  leg. 

"Here  the  dead  walk  at  night,"  he  observed, 
cheerfully,  as  the  two  young  men  came  up  to  him. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Orsino,  who  had 
been  much  amused  by  the  man's  conversation. 

"The  old  Pagliuca  walk.  I  have  seen  their 
souls  running  about  the  floor  in  the  dark,  like 
little  candle  flames.  A  little  more,  and  I  should 
have  seen  their  bodies,  too,  but  I  ran  away.  Soul 
of  my  mother!  I  was  frightened.  It  was  on  the 
eve  of  Santa  Vittoria,  five  years  ago.  The  candles 
for  the  festival  had  not  come,  though  we  had 
waited  all  day  for  the  carrier  from  Piedimonte. 
Then  he  came  at  dark,  for  he  had  met  a  friend  in 
Linguaglossa,  and  he  was  a  drunkard,  and  the  wine 
was  new,  so  he  slept  on  his  cart  all  the  way,  and 
it  was  by  the  grace  of  the  Madonna  that  he  did  not 
roll  off  into  the  ditch.  But  I  considered  that  it 
was  late,  and  that  the  office  began  early  in  the 
morning,  and  that  many  strangers  came  from 
Bronte  and  the  hill  village  to  our  festa,  and 
that  it  would  be  a  scandal  if  they  found  us  still 
dressing  the  church  in  the  morning.  So  I  took 
the  box  of  candles  on  my  back  and  came  here,  not 
thinking  to  bring  a  lantern,  because  there  is  always 


CORtEONE  331 

the  lamp  before  the  altar  where  the  saint's  bones 
are.     Do  you  understand?  " 

"Perfectly.  But  what  about  the  Pagliuca?" 
"My  brother  said,  'You  will  see  the  Pagliuca' 
—  for  everyone  says  it.  But  I  had  a  laugh  at  him, 
for  I  thought  that  a  dead  man  in  his  grave  must  be 
as  quiet  as  a  handkerchief  in  a  drawer.  So  I  came, 
and  I  unlocked  the  door,  thinking  about  the  festi- 
val, and  I  came  in,  meaning  to  take  a  candle  from 
the  box  and  light  it  at  the  altar  lamp,  so  that  I 
might  see  well  to  stick  the  others  into  the  candle- 
sticks. But  there  was  the  flame  of  a  caudle  burn- 
ing on  the  floor.  It  ran  away  from  me  as  I 
came  in,  and  others  ran  after  it,  and  round  and 
round  it.  Then  I  knew  that  I  saw  the  souls  of 
the  old  Pagliuca,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  pres- 
ently I  should  see  also  their  bodies  —  an  evil  thing, 
for  they  have  been  long  dead.  Then  I  made  a 
movement  —  who  knows  how  I  did?  I  dropped 
the  box  and  I  heard  it  break,  and  all  the  candles 
rolled  out  upon  the  floor  as  though  the  dead 
Pagliuca  were  rattling  their  bones.  But  I  counted 
neither  one  nor  two,  but  jumped  out  into  the  road 
with  one  jump.  Santa  Vittoria  helped  me ;  and  it 
was  a  bright  moonlight  night,  but  as  I  shut  the 
door,  I  could  see  the  souls  of  the  Pagliuca  jumping 
up  and  down  on  the  pavement.  I  said  within  me, 
when  the  dead  dance,  the  living  go  home.  And 
my  face  was  white.  When  I  came  home,  my 


332  CORLEONE 

brother  said,  'You  have  seen  the  Pagliuca.'  And 
I  said,  'I  have  seen  them.'  Then  he  gave  me 
some  rum,  and  I  lay  in  a  cold  sweat  till  morning. 
From  that  time  I  will  not  come  here  at  night.  But 
in  the  daytime,  it  is  different." 

Orsino  and  Ippolito  knew  well  enough  that  in 
old  Italian  churches,  where  many  dead  are  buried 
under  the  pavement,  it  is  not  an  uncommon  thing 
to  see  a  will-o'-the-wisp  at  night.  But  in  the  dim 
little  church,  with  the  dead  Pagliuca  lying  under 
their  feet,  there  was  something  gruesome  about 
the  man's  graphic  story,  and  they  did  not  laugh. 

"Let  us  hope  that  we  may  not  see  any  ghosts," 
said  Orsino. 

"Amen,"  answered  the  sacristan,  devoutly. 
"That  is  the  organ,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  loft. 

He  led  the  way.  On  one  side  of  the  entrance  a 
small  arched  door  gave  access  to  a  narrow  winding 
staircase  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall,  lighted  by 
narrow  slits  opening  to  the  air.  Though  the  loft 
had  not  appeared  to  be  very  high  above  the  pave- 
ment, the  staircase  seemed  very  long.  At  last  the 
three  emerged  upon  the  boarded  floor,  at  the  back 
of  the  instrument,  where  four  greasy,  knotted 
ropes  hung  out  of  worn  holes  in  the  cracked  wood. 
The  rose  window  over  the  door  of  the  church 
threw  a  bright  light  into  the  little  forest  of  dusty 
wooden  and  metal  pipes  above.  The  ropes  were 
for  working  the  old-fashioned  bellows. 


COELEONE  333 

Ippolito  went  round  and  took  the  thin  deal  cover 
from  the  keyboard.  He  was  surprised  to  find  a 
double  bank  of  keys,  and  an  octave  and  a  half  of 
pedals,  which  is  very  uncommon  in  country  organs. 
He  was  further  unprepared  to  see  the  name  of  a 
once  famous  maker  in  Naples  just  above  the  keys, 
but  when  he  looked  up  he  understood,  for  on  a 
gilded  scroll,  supported  by  two  rickety  cherubs 
above  his  head,  he  read  the  name  of  the  donor. 

'FERDIXAXDUS      PALIUCA     PRIXCEPS     COBLEONIS 

COMES    SAXCTAE    VICTORIAE    SICULUS     DOXAVIT 

A.D.  MDCCCXXI.' 

The  instrument  was,  therefore,  the  gift  of  a 
Ferdinando  Pagliuca,  Prince  of  Corleone,  Count  of 
Santa  Vittoria,  probably  of  one  of  those  Pagliuca 
whose  souls  the  fat  sacristan  believed  he  had  seen 
'jumping  up  and  down  on  the  pavement.' 

The  sacristan  tugged  at  the  ropes  that  moved 
the  bellows.  Ippolito  dusted  the  bench  over  which 
he  had  leaned  to  uncover  the  keys,  slipped  in, 
swinging  his  feet  over  the  pedals,  pulled  out  two 
or  three  stops,  a.nd  struck  a  chord. 

The  tone  was  not  bad,  and  had  in  it  some  of 
that  richness  which  only  old  organs  are  supposed 
to  possess,  like  old  violins.  He  began  to  prelude 
softly,  and  then,  one  by  one,  he  tried  the  other 
stops.  Some  were  fair,  but  some  were  badly  out 
of  tune.  The  cornopean  brayed  hideously,  and  the 


334  COELEONE 

hautboy  made  curious  buzzing  sounds.  Ippolito 
promised  himself  that  he  would  set  the  whole 
instrument  in  order  in  the  course  of  a  fortnight, 
and  was  delighted  with  his  discovery.  When  he 
had  finished,  the  fat  sacristan  came  out  from 
behind,  mopping  his  forehead  with  a  blue  cotton 
handkerchief. 

"Capers!"  he  exclaimed.  "You  are  a  pro- 
fessor. If  Don  Giacomo  hears  you,  he  will  die 
of  envy." 

"Who  is  Don  Giacomo?" 

"  Eh,  Don  Giacomo !  He  is  the  postmaster  and 
the  telegrapher,  and  he  plays  the  old  organ  in  the 
big  church  on  Sundays.  But  when  there  is  the 
festival  here,  a  professor  comes  to  play  this  one, 
from  Catania.  But  he  cannot  play  as  you  do." 

Orsino  had  gone  down  again  into  the  church 
while  Ippolito  had  been  playing.  They  found  him 
bending  very  low  over  an  inscription  on  a  slab  near 
the  altar  steps. 

"There  is  a  curious  inscription  here,"  he  said, 
without  looking  up.  "  I  cannot  quite  read  it,  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  see  our  name  in  it.  It  would 
be  strange  if  one  of  our  family  had  chanced  to  die 
and  be  buried  here,  ages  ago." 

Ippolito  bent  down,  too,  till  his  head  touched 
his  brother's. 

"It  is  not  Latin,"  he  said  presently.  "  It  looks 
like  Italian." 


CORLEONE  335 

The  fat  sacristan  jingled  his  keys  rather  impa- 
tiently, for  it  was  growing  late. 

"Without  troubling  yourselves  to  read  it,  you 
may  know  what  it  is,"  he  said.  "It  is  the  old 
prophecy  about  the  Pagliuca.  When  the  dead 
walk  here  at  night  they  read  it.  It  says,  'Esca 
Pagliuca  pesca  Saracen.'  But  it  goes  round  a 
circle  like  a  disk,  so  that  you  can  read  it,  'Saracen 
esca  Pagliuca  pesca  '  — either,  Let  Pagliuca  go  out, 
the  Saracen  is  fishing,  or,  Let  the  Saracen  go  out, 
Pagliuca  is  fishing." 

" '  Or  Saracinesca  Pagliuca  pesca '  —  Saracinesca 
fishes  for  Pagliuca, "  said  Ippolito  to  Orsino,  with  a 
laugh  at  his  own  ingenuity. 

"  Who  knows  what  it  means !  "  exclaimed  the 
sacristan.  "  But  they  say  that  when  it  comes  true, 
the  last  Corleone  shall  die  and  the  Pagliuca  d'Ori- 
ani  shall  end.  But  whether  they  end  or  not,  they 
will  walk  here  till  the  Last  Judgment.  Signori, 
the  twilight  descends.  If  you  do  not  wish  to  see 
the  Pagliuca,  let  us  go.  But  if  you  wish  to  see 
them,  here  are  the  keys.  You  are  the  masters, 
but  I  go  home.  This  is  an  evil  place  at  night." 

The  man  was  growing  nervous,  and  moved  away 
towards  the  door.  The  two  brothers  followed  him. 

"The  place  is  consecrated,"  said  Ippolito,  as 
they  reached  the  entrance.  "  What  should  you  be 
afraid  of  ?  " 

"Santa  Vittoria  is  all  alone  here,"  answered  the 


336  CORLEONE 

man,  "  and  the  Pagliuca  are  more  than  fifty,  when 
they  come  out  and  walk.  What  should  a  poor 
Christian  do?  He  is  better  at  home,  with  a  pipe 
of  tobacco." 

The  sun  had  set  when  they  all  came  out  upon 
the  road,  and  the  afterglow  was  purple  on  the 
snow  of  Etna. 


END    OF    VOL.  I 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


:n  L9-25M-9,'47(A5618)444 


THE  LIBRA** 

IMVERSITY  OF  CALIFOW«* 
LOS  ANGELES 


PS 


Crawford  - 
^orleone. 


C85 
v.l 


PS 
1455 
C85 
v.l 


3  1158  01186  4484 


